


MAD Zone

by L1av



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Activist Steve Rogers, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, BAMF Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Omega Steve Rogers, Oral Knotting, Oral Sex, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rutting, Sassy Steve Rogers, Self-Lubrication, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:13:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L1av/pseuds/L1av
Summary: Steve Rogers' blog about ending the MAD Zone reaches many, so many that there are some who would rather see Steve done away with. He's thrown into the MAD Zone as a smear campaign on his name (and to kill him). The MAD Zone is an alpha/omega free-for-all where they're free to fuck anyone they want and the law doesn't matter. Steve meets Bucky, an alpha with a muddled past, one who Steve isn't sure he should be trusting at all, but it's not easy surviving in the MAD Zone as an omega in heat.To make matters worse: Steve isn't wearing a collar to protect his unmated neck, which makes being around Bucky just as dangerous as being around the murderers out for Steve's life...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hopeless--Geek (wuzzy90)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuzzy90/gifts).



> Since a lot of people have been giving me flack about this fic, you need to understand something going in: the views stated in this fic are Steve's and Steve's alone. Not the writer. Just because something is revealed, doesn't mean it's true. You learn and know only what Steve learns and knows. People are not perfect. I don't write fanfiction to be politically correct. I write it to explore human imperfection.
> 
> With that being said, I hope you enjoy this fic. It was the brain baby of my dear friend Hope and I gave it life for her.
> 
> Thank you.

**MAD Zone:**  Mating, Aggression, and Destabilization Zone.

“. . . we _can_ be better than this. We’re not just our heat cycles or ruts. We’re not just meek omegas or dumb alphas. We’re scientists, teachers, students. We _can_ be better. End the MAD Zone. Call your senators, your representatives. Let our voices be heard! We’re better than this.” Steve closes his eyes, taking in a long, even breath through his nose. He scoots closer to the microphone. He’s broadcasting on lower FM frequencies, but he’s got a steady following. His blog has over 50,000 hits and the discussion threads are flooded with people just like him. They all want the MAD Zone abolished. It’s held their country back for decades. It’s an outdated, stereotypical, suppressive mechanism where omegas are taken advantage of and alphas are reduced to violent beasts. Steve’s tired of seeing omegas forced into lesser-paying jobs because “they might have children” or alphas getting off scot-free because “it’s just alphas being alphas.” Living his life as an omega, he’s been cat-called, told to “smile,” and smacked unceremoniously in the ass. He’s been followed, harassed and whined to because “I’m a nice alpha!” He’s done with it… Alphas need accountability and omegas need to know how strong they are. The MAD Zone just reinforces stereotypes and holds _all_ people back.

“This is Steve Rogers, signing off.” He clicks the offline switch, slumping back in his chair. Rubbing his face roughly, he sighs out. He always gets revved up when on the “soapbox.” At least, that’s what Natasha calls it. She’s an alpha. As far as alphas go, she’s pretty great, but even she sometimes doesn’t realize the privilege she has.

Steve flinches when he hears something drop in the room. He turns around, peering through the darkness. His room is lit by the harsh yellow lamp outside, and the glow of his computer. But other than that? It’s dark. Shadows dance menacingly in the corners of his eyes. He feels his pulse quicken. He sniffs the air, getting nothing but the burnt smell of his abandoned grilled cheese and probably the dust in the corners of the room. He relaxes, running his fingers through his bangs. “Get a hold of yourself, Rogers.”

He stands up, heading to the kitchenette in his apartment. He doesn’t have enough money for anything more than a dingy studio apartment that’s too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. He needs coffee. He haphazardly looks over at the calendar, wincing. His heat’s going to start in a day or two. He gets two steps closer to the coffee pot when he gets the whiff of beef jerky and sweat.

“Wh—”

Steve never finishes his sentence. Thick arms grab his tiny waist and someone pushes a wet rag to his face. He struggles, wiggling and clawing as best he can, but he knows from the heat of this guy’s skin that he’s an alpha. An alpha against an omega? Steve’s not dumb. He knows who’s going to win, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. He tries not to breathe, glaring daggers as best he can. This guy is about three-times his size and has him firmly in a chokehold. Steve gets a hand out, clawing down the guy’s forearm enough to draw blood.

“Ah! You _little_ shit!” He’s thrown across the room. Dark shadows move around him as he flies through the air. His head slams against exposed brick and he momentarily sees red.

Steve looks over to his abandoned phone, wishing he could snag it. He scampers up, balling his fists up.

“You think you can take me, kid?” the guy asks. He’s features are sharp. He’d be handsome if he didn’t have such crazed, dark eyes.

Steve kicks his leg out, aiming for the phone to knock it to the floor, but the guy shoves him into the wall again.

“Nu-uh, ya lil shit.” The guy’s voice is hot gravel in the summer, abrasive and painful. “We’ve got _plans_ for you.”

Steve can’t hold his breath anymore. He sucks in a deep breath, his little lungs working to pull oxygen in. The room sizzles and his muscles start feeling like jelly. He tries to keep squirming, but his limbs are heavier. He’s so damn tired all the sudden.

 _Chloroform,_ he thinks before the world fades black.

* * *

Steve wakes up with a splitting headache and something cold on his neck. He leans forward, groaning. Pain blossoms in his back and shoulders. He looks around, trying to gather his bearings but he doesn’t recognize this place. He’s outside—in an alley? Memories finally catch up to him, dashing as fast as they can. His eyes widen. He’s in the MAD Zone. The building before him is run-down and boarded up. He hears screaming, mewling, people just…

“Oh God,” Steve stands up, wincing. He turns lifting up his shirt. He’s got a gash where he was slammed into the brick wall back in his apartment. Gingerly, he touches blood, eyes wide. “They can smell me.”

He runs. And when he runs, he notices the wetness in his pants, the light thrumming in his ass. “Oh… oh no no no no no no.” He bee-lines into another alley, hiding behind a trash heap—that’s on fire. Of course it’s on fire. Sticking his hands in his pants, he wiggles his fingers around, getting them between his asscheeks. He whines. “No—fuck no.” He’s in heat. He’s in the MAD Zone, he has no idea what day it is, he’s bleeding and he’s in heat. He’s a beacon, a giant ‘come fuck me’ signal that’s being broadcasted to every alpha in this godforsaken place. He bites his lip, looking around at the buildings around him. No one actually _lives_ in the MAD Zone. People hole up, make little places theirs while they’re here, but it’s not like Steve can go grab a bagel and a coffee anywhere. All the shops have been long since blown up. All the apartments dilapidated. It’s a ghost city full of ravenous alphas and desperate omegas. The MAD Zone has always been about consent. You enter, you consent to what happens. But Steve never consented. Never.

He reaches up, touching a metal loop around his neck. A collar. It’s to protect omegas from an accidental mating. But Steve’s is a little loose around his lithe neck. He clenches his jaw. He needs to find shelter before he starts getting heat-sweats and _really_ gets into the thick of his heat cycle. He needs to barricade and hold out until it all passes. Just 24 hours… Just 24…

He sees a group of people walking the street. They move casually, sniffing the air. Steve hopes the fire he’s by masks his scent. He gets closer to the garbage bin, careful not to singe off his blond hairs.

“Awe, hey pretty girl,” one of them says.

Steve’s eyes widen. They’re not looking his way. Someone else must be out there.

“Why don’t you turn around and present huh? Lemme look at that sweet pussy.” Steve watches the alphas crowd around something just out of his view. He pokes his head out a little more, able to see around the corner of the building.

There’s a female there. She’s got her breasts exposed and slick dampening her too-short-shorts. She wiggles her hips, fluttering her lashes. Steve shoulders sink. Just another omega giving in because it’s easier than resisting. If she really knew what this did to the rest of omegas. It defines how alphas see them. Just little tight holes to be fucked and mouths full of sin during heat-frenzy. They’re just toys. And that’s all these alphas will ever see.

The alpha grabs her by the metal collar, pushing her against the wall. He leans in, licking up her neck and ear. Steve turns away when he hears her moan. He doesn’t have to watch to know what happens next. His own body responds, twinging with desire. More slick oozes into his pants. He’s going to need to strip soon, which means he needs to find cover _soon_.

Steve uses the group of alphas with the omega as a welcomed getaway. He runs quickly the opposite way, heading for the sewer. The sewers should be relatively safe, if a little pungent.

“Hey!”

He freezes.

“Where ya goin’ baby? Looks like you need a lil help.”

Steve clenches his jaw. He turns around. One of the alphas from the group’s broken away. He’s walking over to Steve with a sway in his hips. Steve can see his erection from here.

“I—I don’t…”

“Awe, you shy, sweetheart?” The alpha keeps walking.

“No,” Steve whispers. He wants to move. He _needs_ to. But his body is pulsating, slick is cooling against his ass and he buries his fingernails into the meat of his palm to keep from losing focus. “No, I don’t.”

The alpha stops, brows raised. For a moment, Steve thinks the alpha may back off. He’s stopped moving at least. Then his brows furrow, a low growl coming from the pit of his throat. “Don’t need my help, huh? Wha’are you—some kinda fucked up bitch?”

Steve whines, his body tingling. He looks to his feet, feeling guilty. But he shouldn’t feel guilty. This is _his_ body, and _he_ doesn’t want this. He shouldn’t feel guilt because he’s displeased an alpha. It’s not his place to please them! He starts shaking, anger swirling against his sternum.

“I said,” Steve glares at him, “no.” He raises his chin, proud of himself. Proud that he’s not just talk. His blog isn’t just puffery. He believes it. They _are_ better than this.

“Oh, you’re gonna fuckin’ get it, bitch.”

Steve turns, running as fast as he can. He’s uncoordinated, arms flailing out to the sides. Briefly, he remembers gym class and running track. He was never good at it. And the way his ankles burn right now, he’s remembering why. The alpha’s right behind him. Steve can smell salt and ember.

Steve turns into an alley, eyes wide when he realizes it’s a dead end. He stops, looking back at the alpha—his face is warped into a snarl, eyes glinting rage and dominance. He looms, taking his time walking closer to Steve.

Steve squeezes his fists, swallowing. He looks up, and in a moment of insanity, he gets the dumbest (most brilliant) idea he’s ever had. He runs forward, reaching up to grab the broken fire escape. The metal whines, his weight pulling it downwards. He doesn’t have enough time to celebrate that he _actually_ jumped high enough to grab the escape before he needs to push his legs forward.

Closing his eyes, he feels the soles of his feet come in contact with the alpha’s face. He quickly moves up the fire escape, looking down in triumph. The alpha’s holding his nose, slewing out a string of curses. “No means no, fuck face!” Steve calls down before moving up the rusted fire escape.

He flinches when he hears metal groan.

“Oh fuck me,” Steve whispers, cringing at his own words. Poor choice of words… Steve scrambles into a broken window, running as fast as he can into the gray hall. It smells old and dusty. Steve’s eyes are watering from mold.

He finds a door, moving to enter the room and then he slams the door closed. He turns around, looking for something, _anything_ to mask his scent. He growls, frustrated. There’s a wireframe of an old bed and used condoms. Steve opens the window, shimmying out and clinging for dear life to the brick wall. He carefully closes the window, losing his grip and slipping a few feet.

Groaning, he clings to the wall, limbs trembling. He hasn’t done this much physical exertion since high school when Flash Thompson dared him to a wrestling match (Steve lost). He carefully makes his way down the building, slinking into a pile of garbage. Liquid, solids, textures Steve doesn’t even want to begin understanding envelop him. He buries himself beneath the garbage, letting it soak into his skin and mask his scent. This wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but it doesn’t hurt—but the smell is almost vomit-inducing.

He lingers inside the trash bin for a long time, staring up at the sky. The clouds laze by, swirling and morphing into pictures. Simple, innocent shapes like elephants and giraffes. Steve wants to stay here for the duration of his heat, but lying among the rubble leads him to think logically about all that happened.

Someone broke into his apartment and took him _after_ he finished broadcasting. Someone drugged him and given that his heat always comes around the same day each month, he was out for a day or two. So he was drugged, kidnapped, held and transported to the MAD Zone. Someone _wanted_ him here. Which means that there is probably someone _in_ here looking for him for whatever nefarious reason. He can’t stay here. He could close the trash bin’s heavy lid, but then he’d corner himself in. If there’s a tracker on him, then he’d just be tying himself up into a neat little present for anyone to stumble upon. He can’t exactly escape from a closed garbage container. His limbs feel heavy. He grimaces, wondering if it’s the sludge soaking into his pores or if it’s the crushing wave of defeat about having to leave the safety of the bin.

Probably both.

He climbs out of the trash bin, careful to avoid rolling an ankle or falling on his ass on the way down. Looking around, he hopes to keep alert and ahead of any alphas. The garbage scent will mask his heat scent, but if they see him, he wouldn’t exactly put it past them to try to fuck him like this—garbage and all.

Steve makes it two blocks when he finds a crowd of alphas in a circle. They’re all hunched over, growling, yelling and sizzling with excitement. There’s two alphas in the middle of them all, punching and snarling at each other like demons in a frenzy. Steve scans the crowd more, seeing a tied up omega on a telephone post. He’s sobbing.

“So it’s not always consensual,” Steve whispers. His heart aches for the omega. If he were bigger or stronger, he’d step in. But Steve narrowly escaped a single alpha on a dumb venture that just happened to work out. Walking into nearly thirty of them would be certain-rape. Maybe even death. This is the MAD Zone. Rape, public sex, fighting, robbery and murder (to name a few) are all legal here. Mating, Aggression, and Destabilization Zone. The Destabilization is the key there. No cops are going to come for that poor omega on the pole. Steve assumes the winner of the fight gets to have him. It’s disgusting, offering up a defenseless omega for sport.

Steve’s eyes sting. He’s so pissed he wants to cry. He can’t save that omega. He just has to keep reminding himself that. He can’t save him while in here. Steve has to get out, but first, he has to survive his heat without an alpha stumbling upon him.

Steve keeps as far as possible away from the circle of competing alphas. He climbs up another fire escape, hoping he can cross from a building that’s crumbling into the building beside it instead of having to be on the road with the alphas.

He stands on the roof, awkwardly trying to keep his balance at the slanted angle. Watching from up here is almost like he’s watching the leaked footage on various black market sites or porn sites. He’s researched the black market sites to make sure he knows what he’s talking about for his podcast. He’s seen the porn because—well—everyone has. Back when he was younger, he’d actively seek it out. There was something so romantic about watching an alpha fuck into a greedy omega, begging to be fucked harder than a god damned freight train. Steve used to _like_ the idea of being manhandled by big, hot hands on his hips. He’d fuck his knot-toy with every intention of entering the MAD Zone to just present to alphas and let them line up and have him.

Then he got older…

By the time he was in university, getting harassed by alphas on the daily, he’d had enough. The novelty had worn away and Steve was left with anger. Anger about the injustice of the world, the silent alphas or even the minority of omegas in power about the omega struggle. Steve hasn’t even finished undergrad yet and he’s so enraged—wanting to _do_ something more in the world and not just his bloody podcast and blog. But _real_ change. He’s been to every march, signed every petition. But he still feels like _nothing_ is changing. He sighs, still watching the alphas below.

One of them is on the ground now, doubled over. The other one dropkicks him and Steve assumes it’s lights out for the guy on the ground. He watches the winner rip the omega out of the bindings. Steve turns away when the alpha forces the omega onto his knees. He didn’t even have any clothes on. He’d been naked under his binding.

“What’s the matter, huh? Gets you too worked up?”

Steve freezes, eyes wide. Beef jerky and salt! The guy from his apartment. He whirls around, facing his attacker. His jaw could cut glass, his body well-built. He really would be handsome if he didn’t look so mad.

“You,” Steve says, voice wavering.

“Yeah,” the guy walks forward, “me.”

“You brought me here.”

The guy barks out a derisive laugh. He puts his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest. Steve’s fixated on the man’s growing erection. He _hates_ how his knees start tingling—how he wants to drop to his knees and nuzzle the man’s cock.

Steve takes a step back, biting his tongue to keep focused. “Why?”

The guy steps forward, smirking. “Why’dya think?”

Steve licks his lips. “My podcast.”

“Ah, smart bird huh?”

“Bird?”

“You’re dainty—got little bones,” he shrugs, “like a bird.”

Steve bristles, balling his fists up. “I have a name.”

“You think I care?”

Steve steps back, his foot slipping. He falters, slipping into the dip between the collapsed building and the other one. He claws at the rubble, trying to get back on his feet. The alpha moves forward, steady and slow like an oncoming storm. He offers out his hand to Steve.

Steve smacks it away.

“Oh-hoh,” he grins, “I’m gonna have so much fun takin’ you apart.”

Steve swallows. There’s something so much more sinister in those words than Steve wants to hear. “Are you gonna kill me?”

The guy shrugs, easy-like. It’s just another day at the office for him. He’s a professional. It’s written on his face. “S’posed to. But maybe if you mate with me, I’ll let ya live.”

Steve sneers. “I’d rather fucking die.”

“Fair enough.” The guy stands tall. “You don’t mind if I film this do ya? I gotta dump your video on the internet to show the country what a lyin’ sack a’ shit you are.”

Steve slides back into the other building. He’s too short to reach the lip to climb up. He’s backed himself into a corner. He presses against the wall, breath quickening. “I’m not a liar.”

“Oh you’re gonna be. I’m gonna make you _howl_ for more. Get my cock deep in ya. You’re gonna _love_ it, birdie.”

“My name is _Steve_.” Steve won’t pretend he isn’t scared. He’s damn terrified. There’s an alpha standing above him. A few quick steps and he’ll be atop Steve. Steve’s not exactly a _virgin_. He’s never been with an alpha, but he’s fooled around with Sam during their heats. It’s easier with another omega. There’s no threat of a mating bite or how big a knot’s going to be. It’s just about them exploring each other and knowing exactly how the other feels.

“Your name is dead-birdie.” He steps down, easily catching himself on the wall of the other building. “And mine’s Brock. Gonna be screamin’ that later.” He bites his lip, grazing his teeth over the pink skin. “You’ll look good below me.”

Steve growls, glaring. He grabs a handful of rubble, tossing it up at _Brock’s_ eyes. He scrambles away, heading down the fire escape where he’d come up. He huffs once he reaches the bottom, looking around. The group of alphas are still there, others are fighting, some are even looking like they’re going to fuck each other. Steve wonders how many omegas are actually in here. There seems to be way more alphas than omegas.

“You’re dead!” Brock yells, jumping each flight of the fire escape. “You hear me, birdie! Dead!”

Steve runs, uncaring that several alphas can see him. Part of him wants them to follow. At least if they’re raping him, then it’s not Brock raping him. It’s with a heavy heart that Steve welcomes that idea. He’d rather be _raped_ by someone who just wants to rape him than by someone who wants to rape and kill him. When did this become his life? His throat clamps shut. He wants to cry. He wants to just fall down, spread his legs and just _give up_. He’s horny, slicked up and defeated. He hears people running behind him. Maybe the thrill of the chance gets alphas excited.

To be honest, Steve doesn’t really know. Alphas pass him on the street, wearing suits or smiling at him politely. They’re his doctors, his teachers. Some of his friends are alphas. These alphas, they’re nothing like the ones that Steve’s come to trust. He doesn’t hate alphas. Not at all. He hates the inequality and the privilege they get. He hates that he can’t instantly trust any of them. But he doesn’t hate them. Not usually.

He’s pretty sure he hates the ones in here.

Steve looks over his shoulder. Two alphas are chasing him, but Brock isn’t. He’s standing on the other side of the street in front of the building, sneering.

Steve turns back to where he’s running, swinging onto another block and crashing right into someone. Their body is thick, more like marble than flesh—but warm—hot even.

Steve falls on his ass, sputtering. He looks up, mouth dropping wide.

“Oh,” the alpha says. He smells like a campfire and pine needles. Steve finds himself inhaling deeper because of all the scents he’s gotten, _this one_ is the one he likes the most.

“You’re covered in—garbage.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “It masks the smell.”

“Why would ya wanna mask your scent?” The alpha cocks his head to the side. His gray eyes are round, genuinely confused that Steve doesn’t _want_ to be smelled. It makes sense. The MAD Zone isn’t exactly for people who want to hide.

“Hey! That one’s ours!” another alpha says. Steve looks over his shoulder, still on the ground. He’s heaving from running so fast.

“I don’t see a bite.” The alpha Steve ran into crosses his arms. His biceps are bigger than Steve’s head.

“They got collars on, dumbass!” one of the other two alphas says.

“Actually,” the big alpha steps closer to Steve, getting between him and the other two alphas, “  
this one doesn’t.”

Steve’s hands fly up to his throat. He squeaks when he finds nothing but smooth skin and a rapid pulse. He’d woken up with a collar, but now it’s gone. Panic surges through Steve, igniting his body. Every hair stands on end at the cold realization. He could be force-mated here. A forced-mating isn’t entirely unheard of in this day and age, though it’s not as common as it used to be. They say that once you’re bitten, you genuinely do feel happy with your partner, though you know you weren’t. Omegas don’t exactly live happy lives in forced-matings, but it’s not like it’s impossible.

But it’s the last thing Steve could ever want.

“You gonna mate him? Here?” one of the pair says. He looks genuinely flabbergasted.

“So what if I do?” Big Biceps says. He steps closer to the other two. “You gonna do somethin’ about it?”

Steve doesn’t have to see his face to know the kind of look he’s given the other two. Alphas like to exert dominance over each other too. That’s why they often travel in packs. But this alpha, he’s by himself. A lone alpha doesn’t need a pack to validate him. Terror clutches Steve’s heart. This guy’s fearless if he’s in the MAD Zone alone. Fearless—and dangerous.

The other two alphas scram away, metaphorical tails between their legs. Steve finally stands up, sucking in deep breaths. He needs to run away before—

“You okay?”

Steve startles, looking in the alpha’s direction. He towers over Steve. His face is framed by brown, stringy hair. He looks so damn intimidating—but the words out of his mouth aren’t about getting ass or asking Steve how he’d like a good dick in him. It’s about Steve’s well-being. That in itself gives Steve pause.

“What?”

The alpha blinks, surprised. “Uh—you okay?”

“Oh.” Steve dusts his pants off. They’re unfortunately soaked through at this point with slick and grime from the garbage. “Y-yeah—thanks—I guess.”

“You guess?”

Steve clenches his jaw. Of course this guy would be confrontational. They all are in here. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You,” the alpha looks Steve over, “you want some new clothes or somethin’?”

“You have them?” Steve takes a step back, realizing his mistake. “I mean, no. No I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.” The alpha crosses his arms. God, Steve’s never seen a chest so broad. “So, you’re tryin’ to mask your scent in garbage, you’re runnin’ from alphas like you don’t want them and you don’t got a collar on.”

Steve lifts his chin. “Yup.”

The alpha smirks, but it’s not unkind. “You don’t wanna be here.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Uh—yeah. It’s pretty easy to tell the difference between the ones who wanna be here and the ones forced to be here.”

“Forced?”

The alpha leans against the brick building, looking around. “We shouldn’t be out here.”

“What, ya gonna take me somewhere so we can be _alone_?” Steve spits the question out, narrowing his eyes. He’s ready to toss this alpha in with all the others in here as a piece of shit.

“Easy killer. You’re an omega without a collar on. That’s dangerous.”

“The thought doesn’t get you hot and bothered?”

The alpha snorts, still smirking. He’s got pretty lips. “Oh it does, but you don’t want it.”

“No I don’t.” Steve wraps his arms around himself—a last-ditch effort at some kind of self-protection.

“C’mon. I’ve got a place nearby.”

“How do I know you’re not gonna rape me?” Steve uses the word very pointedly. He stares the bigger alpha down. No matter Steve’s size, he won’t go down without some kind of a fight, even if it’s futile. This guy could crush him with a pinky if he wanted to.

“You don’t,” the alpha says, “but what’re your options?”

Steve deflates. The guy has a point. “I’m Steve.”

The alpha smiles, nodding. “Bucky.”

Steve offers out his hand to shake, but Bucky pulls back, wincing.

“Uh—I don’t think I could hold back if I touched you. Let’s not chance it, yeah?”

“Oh.” Steve shoves his hand into his pocket. “Augh—gross.”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, you really need some new clothes.”

“Yeah.”

Steve follows Bucky into the alley. He feels his shoulders tense, looking around. No one is here. If Bucky wanted to, he could turn around and take Steve now. There’d be hardly anything Steve could do about it. He keeps a safe distance, keeping his gaze locked between Bucky’s shoulder blades.

“So, uh—if you ain’t in here because you wanna be, then why you in here?”

“Still trying to figure that out.”

“Got drugged?”

Steve’s mouth silently falls open.

“Yeah. You ain’t the first.”

“What?”

Bucky shrugs. “Lots’a omegas find themselves in here without actually wantin’ to be. People they piss off hire people to get them in. It’s kind of a revenge tactic.”

“You know an awful lot about it.” Steve pauses, blinking a few times when Bucky pulls a grungy old shower curtain out of the way of a door.

“Here.”

“You live here?”

“When I rut.” Bucky looks down, clicking his tongue. “Which—I’m rutting.”

“Yeah.” Steve does his best not to look at Bucky’s pants. Steve looks at Bucky’s pants—the line of his erection is pressed against his pants. He’s _big_. Steve swallows, trying to pretend he’s not salivating for that cock. Hormones. Assignments. It’s all so foul to him. They’re humans. They shouldn’t be so shackled to primal urges like this. They’re _better_ than that.

“Trust me, okay? I ain’t gonna touch ya. Just—keep away.”

Steve nods, tense.

He walks inside, following Bucky into a rundown old townhouse. There’s evidence of a fire in the kitchen, and years and years worth of age. The windows are all boarded up and the ratty furniture is covered in mismatched found fabric. “So you’re here a lot?” Steve asks.

“When I rut.”

“But you come here each time?”

Bucky smiles, though there’s a detached frame of resignation in his eyes. “Have been.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “You ever fuck someone in here?”

“Yup. Kinda the point.”

“Did they always want it?”

Bucky looks away. “As far as I know.” He sighs, scratching his forehead. “Let me get you some clothes.”

Steve remains standing, looking around the dingy townhouse. Part of the ceiling to the second floor is caved in and there’s a big, gaping hole. Steve’s about to move further into the shotgun aligned townhouse but Bucky comes back, holding a flannel shirt.

“I’m pretty sure my jeans won’t fit you, but this should cover your ass.”

“You want me walkin’ around in nothing but your shirt?”

Bucky scratches his nose. “Uh, well— I’ve got boxers too—if you want them.”

Steve snatches the shirt out of Bucky’s hands. “Sure.”

Bucky nods, standing there for a moment, watching.

Steve glares, moving behind the couch to put some space between them. “You gonna stare all day or what?”

Bucky winces, turning away. “S-sorry. You just—you smell—good.”

Steve feels sick. Still, he respects this guy for holding back. In a strange way, this guy is really the embodiment of what Steve’s been preaching. He’s facing his hormones as an alpha in rut, but he’s holding himself back. There’s accountability. Steve respects that. But that doesn’t mean he trusts Bucky—not at all. This is the MAD Zone, and this guy’s here for a reason. Hanging around an omega who doesn’t want to mate is not going to be on this alpha’s radar.

“Do you uh—um—do you like, go on the prowl with anyone else?”

Bucky furrows his brow. “Go on the prowl?”

“Ya’know, like—traveling in packs?”

“Nah. I just come in here for rut and get out when I’m done.”

“Why? I mean, why don’t you just find an omega to mate?” Steve slips off his shirt, using the sofa to hide his body. “Ugh—I’m covered still.”

“I’ve got some water? You could wash up.”

Steve nods, pursing his lips. “That’d be nice.”

Bucky disappears into the back of the house and Steve abandons putting the clean shirt on. He doesn’t want to get it dirty with garbage gunk. He looks around, peeking into the hallway. There’s the staircase, but most of it has collapsed in. He guesses no one goes up there anymore.

“I’ve got—” Bucky’s standing there next to the couch, eyes wide. His face is flushed red and Steve can’t stop looking at his cock. Steve feels a small bit of pride knowing that he’s so hard because Steve’s so close. “—water.”

“Thanks. You can just set it down.” Steve backs into the hallway.

“Yeah.” Bucky closes his eyes, breathing roughly. “Or we could—”

“I don’t want that.”

Bucky growls, frustrated. “But you do. Look at’cha. All slick and tremblin’.”

Steve presses his back to the wall. “I’m in heat, I’m not makin’ myself get wet.”

“Yeah but,” Bucky steps closer, “but it’s there. Why’re you fightin’ it?”

“Please don’t get closer.”

Bucky ignores him.

Steve is trembling. His knees tingling, but he’s not certain they’re from fear or desire. He likes the idea of wrapping his legs around Bucky’s thick body, taking in his knot. But the rest of him, screaming at himself, it tells him he does _not_ want this.

“We’re better than this,” Steve whispers. Bucky crowds against him, growling softly and trailing a single finger from Steve’s navel up to his exposed neck.

“You’re so goddamn pretty.”

Steve jerks away, tears blurring his vision. “No! We’re _better_ than this!”

Bucky blinks, eyes clearing. He steps back, a shock of realization painted on his face. “We’re better than this.”

Steve nods. “Yeah?”

“No, I mean, I’ve heard your—your podcast.” Bucky leans back against the sofa. “You’re the guy that talks about ending the MAD Zone.”

Steve nods, uncertain. Bucky uses the MAD Zone. But Bucky’s heard enough of Steve’s podcast to know him by a single phrase.

“Oh my God.” Bucky rubs at his face. “I’m so sorry. I almost—shit—I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t though.” Steve’s words are clipped. He’s trying to hide his chest with his hands. His nipples get swollen and overly sensitive when in heat. The last thing he needs is an alpha looking at them while in rut. “That counts for something.”

Bucky bites his lip, not looking at all pleased with himself. “I’m gonna step outside. You uh—just wash up okay? My shirt should help with the scent.” He moves faster than Steve was prepared for, barreling out of the house. Steve watches, shocked when he hears the door latch closed. He’d almost been—no—no that’s not true. He was not almost raped by Bucky. Bucky held himself back.

Steve drops to his knees, letting out a shaky breath. He’s never been so terrified in his life, and he hadn’t even realized it. Tremors make his hands jerk and move without his permission as he rubs a rag over himself. The water is cold, but it’s better than being covered in grime now. After Steve’s cleaned himself off as best as he can, he slips out of his garbage stained, slick covered pants and into Bucky’s boxers. They’re too big, so Steve has to keep pulling them up, until he gets too annoyed and ties a little knot to hold it on place. Then he slips on the flannel. It drapes over his thighs and the boxers just barely peek out. At least he’s clean now.

He finds Bucky outside sitting on the few stairs in front of the crumbling house. He’s smoking a cigarette, staring off in some nondescript angle. Steve’s fingers itch to draw this man. He’s all sharp angles, bristled jaw and heavy brows. He’s literally the walking posterboy for alphas—but he’s the one who didn’t chase Steve down. He’d _saved_ Steve.

“Are we safe here?” Steve asks.

Bucky tenses. He takes a long drawl on his cigarette before blowing a few smoke rings. “Enough.”

“You don’t really talk much, do you?”

Bucky shrugs. “Nothin’ to say.”

“At all? I mean, we just met. There should be plenty to say.”

“You’re in the MAD Zone. No one’s here to talk.”

“Just fuck, huh?” Steve crosses his arms, leaning on the house’s wall.

“Or beat each other up, or kill each other—whatever.”

“And you do this? Willingly?”

Bucky stands up, tossing his cigarette. “You smell like fuckin’ cupcakes and sugar.”  

“Yeah? Well you smell like burning wood.” Steve steadies his chin, raising it proudly. If Bucky’s going to insult him, then Steve’ll find a way to dish it back at him. Fuck this alpha. Steve owes him nothing. Steve could’ve saved himself eventually. He’s always saved himself.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Bucky pulls out his cigarettes, lighting up a new one.

“You smoke a lot.”

“I’m in arms reach of an omega that smells ready to get fucked. I’m gonna smoke like a damn chimney to keep my tongue out of you.”

Steve takes a step back. The idea of Bucky’s tongue _inside_ him doesn’t exactly help keep his ass dry. A new wave of slick creeps from his body, warming his boxers. “Damn it.”

Bucky cocks a brow.

“Don’t talk like that. I can’t—you wanna fuck me, I don’t exactly wanna not fuck you.”

Bucky smirks. “Oh yeah?”

Steve glares. “We’re not fucking.”

Bucky opens his mouth, fingers delicately balancing his cigarette when a group of alphas appear, walking toward them. “Oh shit.”

Steve looks. His heart jumps into his ears, wailing against his eardrum. He wants to run, but the thrill of the chase is just as exciting as knotting an omega. His best bet is to stay with the most controlled alpha he’s found in here—and that’s Bucky.

“Well, well,” one of the alphas says. He’s got slicked back curly hair and a look that screams _murderer_. Steve steps closer when he sees Brock with them.

“That’s the guy tryin’ to kill me,” Steve whispers.

“Wait—someone’s tryin’ to kill you?!” Bucky doesn’t have time to hear an answer. The alphas are a few yards away and he meets them in the dying little plot of dirt and grass in front of the house. “Fellas.”

“Bucky Barnes,” Brock says. He always looks like a crocodile smiling before he chomps down on an unsuspecting bird. The analogy doesn’t evade Steve. _He’s_ the bird in this case—courtesy of Brock’s stupid nickname. “Enjoying your court sanction?”

Bucky snarls, balling his fists up.

“Oh-hoh! Easy there, tiger. You got somethin’ of mine. I need it back.”

“Omega’s got a clean neck,” Bucky answers without missing a beat. “Far as I can tell, he don’t belong to nobody.”

Steve’s seething under his skin. He’s _right here_ and they’re talking like he doesn’t even exist. He’s a _person_! He’s not someone’s property to be discussed or bargained over. Anger burns his veins and he can feel even his capillaries expanding. He wants to hit someone, but everyone here is more capable of tearing him apart than he’s capable of even _tickling_ them.

“Get out of the war, Barnes.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Make me.”

Brock turns to Steve, pointing at Bucky. “You think he’s pretty? Want his knot in ya?”

Steve grits his teeth, glaring.

“Did he tell ya why he’s in here?” Brock licks the corner of his lips, “he stumbled upon a poor omega going into heat out in public. Little bitch didn’t want his help.”

Steve looks to Bucky, brow slowly furrowing. “You raped someone?”

Bucky just stares blankly at Steve. He doesn’t go explain, or even acknowledge it. It’s like Steve didn’t even speak.

“Really wanna let this guy protect you from me?” Brock asks, crossing his arms. “We’ll make ya feel good before we off ya, little birdie. I promise.”

Steve shakes his head, fists trembling. In the face of overwhelming odds, in the face of betrayal and seething anger, all he can do is stand here. He’s slick, knees wobbly and all he wants to do is sink onto a knot and let someone play with his nipples. He’s too weak to fight them off, he’s too pissed at Bucky to stick around. And to think the guy almost _fooled_ him! Steve looks over at Bucky, taking in the way he’s standing. It’s like none of this is even happening around him. His eyes are fixed on Brock, but there’s nothing in them—just black and gray. His cigarette is almost burned out between his lips, but he makes no move to flick it away.

Steve bolts, because it’s the only thing he can do at this point. Bucky isn’t safe, Brock brought backup. All Steve can do is run. So he does. He’s in nothing but boxers, a baggy flannel and his shitty shoes. His elbows flail at his sides as he runs. He doesn’t dare look back.

He passes a group of alphas using an omega as a spitfire, knot buried deep and mouth wrapped around a cock. Steve hopes he’s happy, considering he now knows for sure that a lot of omegas get thrown in here without their consent.

He zigs down another street, biting his lip when he sees another circle of alphas beating each other up. It looks more like a frenzy, male and female alphas attacking each other and tearing at each other’s skin. There’s a few omegas there, all smiling and looking positively pleased. Maybe it’s not always so bad for omegas in here. At least those omegas found a way to use their heat to their advantage.

Steve’s about to turn another corner and head into an abandoned corner store when someone reaches out and grabs him. He yelps, pulling a fist back to punch the person.

“Hey!” Bucky says, ducking. “It’s me, jackass!”

“Oh and that’s supposed to make me feel better?!” Steve’s red in the face, glaring murderous intent. This guy can think he can just waltz on into Steve’s life? A fucking _rapist_?

Bucky sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you want them to kill you? This is how you get killed.”

“And stayin’ with you is any better? You’re a rapist! A rapist who got off easy! The MAD Zone for your ruts? Fuck you! I’ll bet that omega’s gonna remember what you did to them for the rest of their life!”

Bucky waits, listening. Steve’s almost more pissed off about that then he is about the idea that he almost trusted this guy. He’s _wearing_ Bucky’s clothes! Smells like him too.

“We can’t stay here,” Bucky says. “I know where we could go.”

“So you can trick me into trusting you? No thanks.”

Bucky sighs. “You don’t have to trust me, but if you wanna live, you need to get out of the open and into some place safe.”

“And where’s that, huh?” Steve looks over Bucky’s face. He’s sweating and his face is more than flushed now, hair sticking to his forehead. There’s a tiny bruise under his eye that wasn’t there before. “Did you fight them? For me?”

Bucky averts his eyes. “You need to get somewhere safe.”

“You need to answer my questions.”

“I’ll answer them when we get you to safety.” Bucky turns around, looking over his shoulder. “You can either come with me, and I’ll explain, or you can stay here and take your chances. I’m offerin’ you one more time.”

Steve scowls, crossing his arms. He wants to be stubborn. Most of his life has been a series of stubborn moments, but Steve’s finding it hard to deny this man. His scent is warm and makes Steve slightly sleepy—but not in a tired sort of way, in comfort. Steve could roll around on a bed with Bucky all day, nuzzling up to that scent. That makes Bucky _more_ than dangerous.

“Fine, but don’t you dare touch me.”

Bucky nods, relaxing. He pulls out a knife from his pocket, showing it to Steve. “If anyone tries to hurt you, use this.”

Steve takes the knife, careful to avoid Bucky’s hand or the warmth his body radiates. “Even you?”

Bucky smirks, but it looks more painful than friendly. “Even me.”

Steve holds the knife close to his heart, cradling it with both hands. He follows Bucky to wherever they’re going now. He keeps his eyes peeled for Brock or any of his cronies. If any of them try to get close, Steve will drag his blade across their body. But then what news would that make? Famous political podcaster caught murdering people in the MAD Zone. It’s too risky. Hopefully it doesn’t have to come to that.

They get to a tall building closer to the edge of the MAD Zone. Steve had been counting the amount of omegas he saw. Less than 100. He’d seen clearly more than 100 alphas. He wondered which omegas were here because they wanted to be.

“There’s no way inside except the roof,” Bucky says, “makes it a good place to hide out.”

“And you know this why?”

Bucky closes his eyes slowly. He doesn’t move for a long enough time that Steve starts to wonder what goes on in that head of his. Steve almost starts making excuses for why Bucky would rape someone until he realizes that’s exactly what alphas want. Steve pointedly steps away, still waiting for an answer.

“Because I came here the first time.”

“The first time you got sent to the MAD Zone?”

“No.” Bucky jumps onto the side of the building, his grip long enough to grab a rope that Steve hadn’t even seen. “The first time I came here willingly.”

“Oh.”

They work their way up the building in silence. Steve’s not much for rock climbing or any kind of climbing for that matter, so he’s huffing and puffing by the time they get half way up. Bucky’s got a nice sheen of sweat on him, his scent wafting toward Steve like a dreamy haze of cozy campfires by a pink and orange sunset. He’s comfort incarnate and Steve whines, smacking his head against the brick wall. He’s better than this, he’s better than this, he’s better than this.

“I need—uh—fuck.”

Steve looks up, realizing what’s happening. Bucky’s pants are constricted around his erection. He’s shivering and panting quickly.

“Bucky.”

“Your scent. You’re sweat.”

Steve looks at himself. If Bucky’s shining like he’s been out in the sun all day, Steve probably is too. He can see a flush on his forearm. He’s fairly certain his Irish complexion is dusted pink all over. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky growls, rolling away from Steve to face the other way. “No—not your fault. Fuck.”

“What do I do? We’re—hovering!”

Bucky lets out a mewling whimper, his shoulders shaking. “I wanna fuck you so bad, fuck.”

Steve bites his lip. “Please don’t.”

“I know!” Bucky all but wails. He turns toward Steve again, his canines look larger—but Steve knows that’s his imagination. Alphas don’t have vampire teeth. “But—Jesus— _fuck_!” He bashes his head against the brick wall, whimpering. “Fuck I wanna knot you.”

Steve can’t move. He needs Bucky to help guide him up the building. But Bucky’s in no shape to inch away at all. He’s quivering, sweating profusely and the _smell_ he’s radiating. Steve’s own body reacts, wetting the boxers he’s wearing.

“We’re animals,” Bucky says. He sounds breathless. “This is what we do. We _fuck_. Why don’t you just let it happen!”

“Because we’re not just animals.”

“We’re fuckin’ primates, Steve!” Bucky barks out a laugh. “I mean—fuck—you’re either some kind of organism on this planet or a mammal or a fish or—whatever, man. And mammals are us and we’re primates and—I used to know all this shit—but your scent. Jesus, Mary and Joseph you’ve got the best scent. Anyone ever tell you that? Fuckin’ sugar crystals on a cake or somethin’.”

“You’re getting delirious.” Steve starts feeling the familiar sensation of fight or flight. Bucky’s slowly losing it. Steve can see it in the way he grinds against the wall for friction and how his shoulders are as tense as a rubber-band pulled to its limits. He’s going to snap and there’s absolutely nothing Steve can do about it from this height. “Bucky, we need to keep moving.”

“Yeah—yeah.” Bucky smacks his head into the wall again. There’s a little cut on his forehead. “I know. Can’t fuck you like this.”

“You’re not gonna fuck me. At all.”

Bucky snorts. “Think I wouldn’t take you? Pretty omega like you. Got that exposed neck too. What the fuck were they thinkin’ when they threw you in here.”

Steve wants to punch him. It’s one thing to be catcalled out on the street, but it’s another to hear someone go on about how they’re going to rape you. And of course this guy _has_ raped someone before, so what’s to stop him now?

“I should go.”

“N-no.” Bucky slips down the rope, reaching for Steve. His limbs are so shaky that Steve’s scared he may let go and fall. “Please don’t leave me.”

Steve stares, astonished. He sees Bucky’s gaze dip to his lips and it takes everything in Steve’s body to not kiss this man. Those lips are sculpted from cotton and rose petals. Steve could reach out and _touch_ if he wasn’t holding onto this rope for dear life.

“We need to keep moving. Please, Bucky.”

Bucky’s mouth is open, panting. His chest is rising and falling like he’s been running for hours. He looks like he’s in so much pain. Pain, because Steve’s here causing it. Ruts and heats are similar in that alphas and omegas can’t control them, they happen once a month and they’re always worse around someone of the opposite assignment. But that doesn’t mean Steve will let anyone excuse an alpha for raping someone during a rut. Omegas who’ve raped alphas have been sent to jail and subsequently killed inside. Why is it that an alpha can’t control it and yet an omega should know better?

“Keep moving,” Bucky says. He looks away, like the words don’t taste right on his tongue. “Yeah—um—keep movin’.”

So they do. It feels like it takes longer to get to the top than it had to reach the middle of the building. Bucky’s movements are jerky and each time he has to pull Steve up, he whines deep in his chest. It’s almost endearing, how badly Bucky wants Steve. And Steve may want Bucky, but he’s not sure if it’s just hormones or if he really does like this guy.

But, why would Steve like him? He’s obviously a pig—just some alpha-asshole who raped someone and got himself lobbed into here for his ruts. He’s a big meat-head who pretends to be _different_ just so he can corner a victim. He’s disgusting, and Steve needs to remember that.

But he gave Steve a knife. He’s been saving Steve from the start. He didn’t have to save Steve from Brock. And Brock clearly means business. Surely Bucky knew that. Bucky chased Steve down and offered to explain everything once he knew Steve was safe. There has to be more, right? Someone who seems so conventionally good can’t be so conventionally foul too, right?

Bucky swings over onto the roof, gasping for air. He whines again, but then goes quiet.

Steve rolls onto the roof, panting. He wishes he had water. He could go for a glass, or ten, right about now. “I never wanna—do that again.”

Bucky laughs. “Same.”

They lie on the roof, both listening to each other gasp for air. The sun is high up in the sky now, but Steve’s already exhausted. He’s had to fight for his life on multime occasions today, is probably doing it even now. He could go for a nice nap at this point. Wouldn’t have to rest for too long, just enough to feel his heart stop pounding. His eyes close, the world bathed in golden and black hues behind his eyelids. He starts to drift when he feels something against his side.

His eyes snap open and he comes face to face with Bucky. “What the fuck!”

“Why not?!”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Steve scampers up, holding out the knife. “I said no asshole! You heard me!”

“I know!” Bucky pulls his hair, whining. “But—do you really not feel it at all? I’m goin’ mad, Steve! You’re so fucking beautiful and you smell so good! We don’t hafta mate. I just need,” he stops, biting his lower lip, “I just need to knot you a few times.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “We’re better than this.”

“No,” Bucky whispers. He glares at Steve, his desire morphing to anger. The gray hint to his eyes goes black and Steve realizes this was probably a trap. He doesn’t know if he can get down through the inside or not, but right now, he’s stranded on a roof with an alpha in rut and he’s in heat.

“We’re not better, Steve. This is _exactly_ who we are and what we’re supposed to do. Fightin’ it’ll just hurt you in the end.”

Steve doesn’t have anything to say back to that. He curls into himself, wrapping his bony arms around his knees. He tucks his chin over his knees as best he can, watching Bucky. The alpha doesn’t look crazed anymore, just defeated. Almost like the words he utters breaks him with each syllable. Steve can practically hear his body shatter as it hits cold, unrelenting rock below.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Steve says, nodding, “but I don’t believe in it for a second. You didn’t take me when I ran into you. You didn’t when you had me pushed up against the wall in your house either. So—I don’t believe you. Not for a second.” He stands up, unsure of exactly what he’s doing. Bucky’s awe-filled face mirrors the way Steve feels. Steve hovers over Bucky, offering out a hand. Bucky looks to his hand and then up to his face. He’s a dog uncertain of why an abusive owner is feeding him a treat. It hurts Steve, but he doesn’t show it.

Bucky takes his hand. Steve pulls him up and then their bodies are pressed together like they’ve never been apart. Bucky runs his fingertips up and down Steve’s arms. “You look good in my shirt.”

Steve snorts. “Yeah well, you ain’t gettin’ it back.”

Bucky nods. “That’s fine.”

Steve opens his mouth, but Bucky’s already pulling away. He grits his teeth, dips his head a bit in resignation, but he pulls away. That in itself is a monumental move when Steve was so sure this had been the moment Bucky changed. Steve’s been wrong about a few things in life. Bucky doesn’t seem to be one of them.

But then there’s…

“Why did you rape an omega?” Steve wants to swallow the words back, but they’re out, lingering in the air around them.

Bucky’s mouth drops open, eyes wide. He stares at Steve for an uncomfortable amount of time and then moves over to the door on the roof. “This way.”

Steve doesn’t even pry when he doesn’t get an answer. He’d expected this. Steve should still be just as angry and distrustful of Bucky as he was from the start, or when Brock told about Bucky’s criminal past. The way Bucky behaves, from the control (even among the moments of weakness) to the way Bucky looks at Steve like the world doesn’t exist. It’s an intensity Steve’s not used to, but being looked at like that? It’s not exactly unwelcome. Everything about Bucky points away from a rapist. But Brock said he was, and Bucky didn’t deny it. Then again, Bucky didn’t confirm it either. It was Steve coming up with his own conclusions. Steve, who decided to think of the worst case scenario and dig Bucky a coffin. Not once did Bucky tell Steve what the truth was, and here Steve had been, finding a way to make this man a villain when all he’s done is help Steve so far.

Maybe Steve’s been a fool.

It’s dark inside the building. The only way down and out is through the basement and into the sewers. Steve doesn’t exactly relish the idea of having to use that exit one day, but it’s a safe place and that’s all that matters right now.

Bucky builds a small fire in one of the rooms with debris and old furniture. He wipes at his face, dragging his nails along the skin. Steve hears the sharp sounds of nails against beard stubble. Bucky looks exhausted. The bags under his eyes are more like bruises than signs of sleep deprivation. His face is sallow and pale; even the corners of his lips are tugged down—muscles too tired. This is a man who lives in exhaustion. All that does is make Steve wonder who he really is. What little events became a cascade of larger events that created Bucky?

“Will you talk to me now?” Steve asks scooting closer to the fire.

Bucky stares at the flames. Their light reflects in Bucky’s eyes, dancing wildly. He looks like a demon now, full of sinful temptation. Steve wants to mewl out his name and present for this alpha. He shakes his head. _No._ He’s better than this.

“Sure,” Bucky finally says.

“Do I just ask you questions or?”

Bucky shrugs. “If you want.”

“Why’d you rape an omega?”

Bucky looks away, pursing his lips. Steve waits, listening to the crackle of the fire. He waits so long that he starts to forget he’d asked a question. The way the fire paints Bucky’s face in shadow is hypnotic. Stories are written on jawbones like that, cut cheeks that slice through the air and demand attention—this man could have anything. So why did he take it unwantedly?

“I asked—”

“I _know_.” Bucky squeezes in on himself, shoulders hunched. He looks like he’s going to growl and Steve ducks his chin—submissive. He hates this about his biology. His body is designed to submit to alphas like Bucky. All they have to do is growl, or look a certain way, or wrap their fingers around Steve’s neck and he’s submitting. Autonomy is cherished and yet Steve feels robbed of it because of his very nature.

“Why aren’t you telling me.”

“It’s better this way.”

“Why?”

Bucky snorts derisively. “You’ve got a lot of balls—for an omega.”

“And you’re a huge asshole—but that’s just like every other alpha so I don’t know what makes you special.” Steve crosses his arms, sitting back. “Whatever. All I need to do is get through tonight and I’m fine.”

“I could help you. I know you’ve been feelin’ it all day. You’ve soaked through those boxers.”

“I’d rather have my fingernails pulled off one by one than let you touch me like that.” Steve stands up. He needs to find another place in the room away from Bucky. For all his animosity, Steve’s body wants Bucky. It wants to sit on that man’s lap, wiggle his hips and feel how big Bucky is. He wants those lips on his and fingers at his nipples. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to hold back a sob. He wishes he’d been born an alpha. The shame of being like this—this _needy_ —is often too much to bear. Steve has a lot of omega pride. He believes in his assignment, he really does. But this? This is the part he carries resentment for. His very existence is at the mercy of alphas. It doesn’t matter that Bucky’s a lying rapist. He’s an alpha and Steve’s attracted to him because of it.

“You’re infuriating,” Bucky says. The words tumble from his mouth so easily it’s like he said the fire feels nice. Steve gawks. “You think you’re so much better than everyone else. And you know what, maybe you are—but that doesn’t give you the right to judge me for who I am. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve done things I had to do because it was the only option. You can’t sit there and judge me for who I am when you won’t even acknowledge the shit you’ve done too.”

“Oh, the shit I’ve done?” Steve presses his hand to his chest, brows raised. “You seriously going to compare _me_ to _you_?”

“I’ve listened to your podcast, Steve. I’ve heard the shit you’ve done or encouraged others to do. You talk about alphas like we’re beasts. You uplift your assignment like your some god-given blessing that’s designed to be smarter than us.”

“Oh for the—”

“No!” Bucky snaps, standing. “You _listen_!”

Steve whimpers, his body giving over to Bucky’s aggression. He smells the alpha’s hormones flood out of him and Steve’s knees start shaking. He wants to drop in front of Bucky and beg for forgiveness. That only pisses Steve off more.

“You can’t _sit_ there on that fuckin’ podcast and tell the world that it should hate alphas! That they shouldn’t trust us? It’s shit like that that—” Bucky bites his lip, choking back a sob.

Steve’s shoulders relax. Bucky went from ready to tear Steve’s throat out to brushing tears from his eyes. The fire hides the shine, but Steve sees the way Bucky tries to hide his face. He hears the wet choke in the back of Bucky’s throat. He’s crying. Whatever Steve did, whatever he’d influenced someone else to do—it affected Bucky.

“You knew who I was when we ran into each other,” Steve says.

Bucky nods, sniffing. He wipes his eyes again, his lip quivering.

“What did I do to you?” The question hangs in the air, making Steve’s stomach churn. He’d never asked for hatred. Or maybe—maybe that’s not entirely true. There’s a lot of resentment in his podcasts. He interviews extremists a lot—discussing alpha stereotypes or helping perpetuate that omegas need to fear if they’ll be killed or not on a first date where an alpha just has to wonder if their hair looks good. He has alpha friends, but he always says _you’re not like them_ , and then turns to his omega friends and talks about how much he hates when _alphas do this thing_. It’s never occurred to him that in his fight for equality, he was actually putting alphas down.

“I didn’t rape her—or I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to.” Bucky sits heavily next to the fire. He’s a little too close now, the shadows no longer dancing across his face. He’s in full view and the expression he has leaves Steve wanting to burst into tears. That’s the face of a man who’s been destroyed by guilt, the face of a man who can’t sleep because he wonders if things could’ve been different. It’s regret incarnate, and it’s Steve’s fault.

“I was comin’ home from work. She was passing me on the street. We looked at each other and both of us just—well we knew it at the same time. I smelled it and she felt it. She was mortified. I could tell. Her pants started soaking and she tried to hide it by crumpling up but there were others around. I wasn’t the only one that smelled her.”

Steve gulps.

“I tried to help her. I just wanted to wrap my arm around her ya know? Show that an alpha already had her claimed? I didn’t wanna like—I didn’t wanna touch her. I just wanted her away from the other alphas. They were all lookin’ and I know how it feels to be next to an omega right when their heat hits. It can throw us into a frenzy.”

Steve had seen it before. He was twelve years old when his first heat hit. His teacher was an alpha and went from kind and gentle Mr. Albanse to mad dog. He’d jumped on Steve’s desk, snarling and drooling before some of the other kids pulled him away and a girl went to get another teacher. First heat always runs the risk more of throwing an alpha into a frenzy. Steve didn’t know. His mother was an alpha, his omega father long gone. It’s not common for omegas to abandon family, but they do sometimes. Steve wasn’t what his father wanted, he guesses. So he didn’t know the signs of an oncoming heat. He thought he’d just been sick that day, but Steve always loved school—so he went.

“So I reached for her, tellin’ her I was gonna help. I guess—I guess she didn’t really understand.” Bucky moves to scratch his shoulder blade. “She said she’d heard what that meant, so she pulled out pepper spray and hit me with it. The other alphas started laughing, but she turned to them too and said she’d do it to them if they got closer. So they left.”

Steve feels the pit of his stomach fall out of him. He’d had a whole segment about alphas saying they were just there to _help_. It wasn’t without cause—but now, hearing this? It makes him feel dirty. He’d tainted Bucky’s honesty by telling other omegas that an alpha offering help is anything but. He’d ruined Bucky’s chivalry and bravery—because he lumped all alphas into one category. He said alphas were dangerous and not to be trusted. That _all_ alphas were.

Bucky sighs. “I was on my knees, sneezing and crying but I still found a way to tell her all I wanted to do was get her away from the other ones—that I was sorry. She actually felt bad,” he smiles, “even helped me up. She got a face wipe out to try to help get the mace outta my face. I—I reached for her hips. I didn’t really mean to. That’s when the cops came. I don’t know if it was embarrassment or that I started to get hard but she got angry at me again. Told them I was tryin’ to rape her.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Bucky looks up, shrugging. “I’m an alpha. She’s an omega. There was enough evidence to press charges and the state did. She did. Even used your podcast as persuasive evidence about the use of the word ‘help’ when outta an alpha’s mouth.”

“But you didn’t rape her?” Steve’s lungs burned. He wanted to run and scream at the top of his lungs. He wanted to pull out his hair and just shriek and shriek at the injustice of it all. Rage burned in him, moving blindly through him and filling him up so intensely that he actually growled. “I mean—what the _fuck_! You didn’t even hurt her! She maced you!”

“I grabbed her hips, Steve.” Bucky’s eyes look too sad for Steve to stomach. “I didn’t mean to, but I did. That—that’s enough.”

“But you didn’t mean to,” Steve whispers. The realization of his hypocrisy is ringing like a gong in his head. Everything he’s ever said about consent, about alphas being twisted, shady bastards—it’s all there now. Steve can recall each and every time he’s put an alpha down or said that he hates them. He may not always say it on the podcast, but he does say it. And people have been listening. Lots of people. Alphas and omegas alike. And he’d made enough waves to actually lure the ire of someone much more powerful than him to land him in here.

Bucky lets the tears fall freely now. “I know.” He looks at his feet, inching them closer and closer to the fire. “But I did it.”

Steve lets out an unsteady exhale. “Oh Bucky. I’m—it’s my fault. It’s my fault.”

Bucky shakes his head. “No. You’re—you’re not wrong, I don’t think. I think about her every day, ya know? What would’ve happened if the cops hadn’t shown up. Would I have? I mean—would I really rape someone like that? MAD Zone it’s different. Omegas are in here under the silent consent that they want to be. Doesn’t matter if it’s not really true. But I’ve always asked. Over and over. I’ve _always_ asked if it was okay before I ever touched any of them. I swear, Steve.” More tears. Steve’s going to cry if this keeps up. “I never meant—I never meant to hurt her.”

Steve moves before he realizes he’s touching Bucky. He’s wrapping his small arms around broad, shaking shoulders and cradling Bucky’s head against his chest. He’s letting Bucky cry into his stomach and feels the wet tears sink into the flannel shirt. Bucky’s saying something, but Steve can’t hear over the sounds of his thoughts. He’d ruined this man somehow. This is a _good_ alpha, and Steve found a way to taint him too—to lob him in with all the rest.

“I thought for so long that what you said was right,” Bucky says hoarsely. “I listened to your podcast every week after the incident.” Incident. Such a trivial word for a moment that changed Bucky completely. “I tried so hard to change, to _be better_. But then I’d come in here because they made me and—oh God—Steve I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not better. I’m sorry!” He’s still professing apologies one after the other when Steve starts to tune them out. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hear them, it’s that he can’t believe Bucky would ask for _his_ forgiveness. Bucky wasn’t a malicious alpha trying to steal a woman’s body for a place to put his knot. Bucky wasn’t trying to force an omega to mate him, or even just feel good for the night. Bucky was trying to save someone from the threat of danger. He’d risked himself, and in doing so, he’d been brandished a rapist. Maybe that’s why the judge sentenced him so light—because maybe the judge even knew. This wasn’t fair.

Bucky’s whining when Steve focuses on the present again. He’s trembling, pushing his face against Steve’s body and nuzzling it. Steve closes his eyes because he knows what’s happening. Bucky’s in rut—and Steve’s in heat. It’s not fair to judge Bucky for this. He wants Steve and that’s okay. Steve wants him too. But it’s the last thing Steve thinks should happen. Because this _is not_ Bucky’s choice. It’s the hormones stuffing up the room. It’s the circumstance and Bucky’s cracked open vulnerability. His heart’s bleeding out to Steve, and Steve can’t be the one to take advantage of that just because he’s relieved to hear that Bucky isn’t actually a rapist. It’s not fair to Bucky for Steve to decide _oh, you’re safe so let’s fuck now, ha ha._ This isn’t Bucky’s choice to be here—so Steve won’t do that to him.

“Bucky,” Steve says. His voice is strained, wavering.

Bucky whines, long and low. He pulls back, curling up into his limbs. “M’sorry.”

“No.” Steve’s eyes melt for this man. How could a man so large make himself look so small? “That’s not what I’m sayin’.”

Bucky looks up with round, child-like eyes. He’d worship Steve, if Steve let him. It’s written all over that face—that gorgeous, _gorgeous_ face.

“You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. You’re a good person, Bucky and I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Bucky sniffs, wiping at his eyes again. His lashes are all clumped together from the tears, but that does nothing to detract from how beautiful he is. Steve’s been so pissed that he never really allowed himself to see it—the beauty that makes up Bucky’s face. Sure, he’d always noticed, but he never let himself drink it in. It wouldn’t be so bad—being with Bucky. They’d have beautiful children.

And that’s when Steve knows it’s the heat talking.

“We should go to bed,” Steve says. He licks his lips, wincing from the slight sting. His lips are chapped. “I’ll stay in this corner, and you stay in that one?”

Bucky looks hurt, but he says, “Yeah, okay.” He swallows loudly, letting out a shaky breath. “I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

Steve blinks.

“I’ve got, well it ain’t much but,” Bucky digs into his jeans and pulls out a little pack of trail mix, “I was savin’ it—but you probably need it.”

“I can’t take your food.” It doesn’t matter that Steve _is_ hungry. He’s thirsty too. But he won’t abuse Bucky like that.

“I want you to take it. I hate raisins anyway.”

“We can share?”

Bucky’s smile melts Steve’s heart. They nestle in together by the fire. Bucky opens the little pack and pours some out into his hand. “You want the M&M’s too?”

“Those are the best part!” Steve does end up taking one.

“Not a fan of chocolate, honestly,” Bucky admits.

“You’re kidding me.” Steve realizes that they’re slowly starting to meld into each other. He’s leaning against Bucky, and Bucky’s leaning against him. Bucky scoots one leg under Steve’s and Steve takes that to move into the half-circle of Bucky’s legs. He turns a bit, looking up. He likes being cradled in Bucky’s arms. He likes the feeling of being small and cherished. It doesn’t matter that it’s just an illusion. He wants to indulge in it for a little.

“I’m a savory kinda guy.”

“But you told me I smell like cupcakes.” Steve didn’t mean to sound so horrified, but he assumes his tone is the reason why Bucky is bursting out laughing. The sound is literal music and Steve can’t help the blush that nestles in his face. He ducks his chin, allowing a timid smile to play at his lips.

“You’re too cute.” Bucky’s arms go around Steve’s waist, giving him a little squeeze. Then, his eyes snap open and he freezes. “Oh. Shit.”

Steve finishes chewing a peanut, licking his lips. “It’s—it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Bucky pulls away, crawling a few feet from Steve before dumping himself to the floor. “I’ll take advantage of you.”

“No you won’t.”

“Have you _seen_ you, Steve? You’re so—you’re so pretty. God, it must’ve been fun swatting all the alphas away when you went to prom, right?”

Steve shrugs. “Never went to prom.”

“What? You never?”

“I can’t dance.” Steve flicks his brow up. “Can’t do a lot of things actually. But I’m good at art.”

“You can’t—dance?” Bucky sounds scandalized. “Steve—have you _never_ been dancin’?”

Steve shakes his head.

“C’mere, c’mere right now.”

Steve does. Together, they stand with their chests close. Steve’s painfully aware that Bucky smells like the fire in the middle of the room, but better. He’s a warm blanket with the snow falling outside, or a fresh brewed cup of tea on a rainy day. He’s comfort and Steve wants to press his lips to Bucky’s, let them trail down his neck to his collar bones. He wants to nibble his way down Bucky’s stomach and pull giggles from him.

Steve grabs Bucky’s hips, and Bucky goes still.

“I wanna dance with you,” Steve says. “I really, really do.”

Bucky smiles, eyes watery. “Okay.”

They don’t have music, not unless they count the crackling in the fire. Steve doesn’t think that’s the point though. Bucky’s got his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist, his head resting on Steve’s. Steve’s nestled up against Bucky’s chest and he can feel his heart beating. It’s the drums to the fire’s guitar solo—Steve decides. Or maybe the fire is the piano. Steve smiles, enjoying the mere notion that he gets to decide the music in his head, the instruments that play or don’t. He nuzzles Bucky, sighing.

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers flinch but then he settles again, swaying. “Steve?”

“Mm?”

“I’m sorry I said all those things—when we were climbin’ up here.” He swallows. Steve can hear it go all the way down his sternum. “Part of me—well—I said it because I believed it.”

“Believed what?” Steve steps on Bucky’s foot. “Sorry.”

“Believed that I’m not better.”

Steve smiles, reaching up to cup Bucky’s face. Bucky’s eyes round, shock so tense that Steve’s sure he can hear the sounds of glass shattering in those irises. “You _are_ better than that.”

Bucky cups Steve’s hands, face contorting into a relieved smile. “I still wanna fuck you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Such a charmer.” He flicks Bucky’s nose. “Keep dancin’ with me.”

So they do. They sway to music that doesn’t exist. Steve counts Bucky’s heartbeats, focuses on the heat that radiates from Bucky’s body and the way his muscles seem to sizzle beneath the skin. They laugh each time Steve steps on Bucky’s feet until Bucky’s picking him up and letting him dance atop his toes. He twirls Steve a few times, dipping him playfully and laughing when Steve nearly falls to the floor from discoordination. It’s peaceful.

So of course that means it was doomed to be ruined.

Bucky pulls back, snarling. Steve smells him before he sees. Beef jerky.

“Well-well,” Brock says, sauntering into the room. “Look what we got here.” He has that guy with the slicked back hair from before. He’s bigger than Brock, and smells like rancid meat. Steve nearly gags. “You two gonna mate or what? I was enjoyin’ the show.”

Bucky lets out a long, warning growl.

“Easy tiger,” Brock holds his hands up like he’s surrendering, “me and my pal, Jack here just want the kid. Give us him, and you can keep on fuckin’ omegas like it’s your job. You like that right? Fuckin’ ‘em. They got some _good_ holes, huh?”

Bucky clenches his jaw.

Steve’s shaking, looking between the men thrice his size and Bucky. He wants to hide behind Bucky, but that’s a coward’s position. Steve’s never been a coward. He grits his teeth, jaw held proud. “If I go with you, you won’t hurt him?”

“What?” Bucky’s head snaps in Steve’s direction. “Steve, no.”

Steve ignores him, stepping closer to Brock. “You won’t, right?”

Brock’s _friend_ , Jack, snorts.

“We ain’t gettin’ paid to kill your loverboy,” Brock says, “just you.”

Steve looks at Bucky, feeling a rush of regret and thoughts of what might have been had things been different. Bucky had shown him nothing but kindness, even when Steve was less than agreeable. Distantly, Steve thinks Bucky may have been his soulmate—had they met in another world. It’s pathetically cheesy and Steve wants to punch himself for the idea, but it’s there. He holds it close in his heart.

“Steve,” Bucky pleads. He shakes his head when words fail him. “I know these guys.”

“Sure do,” Brock says, proud. He’s got his hands on his belt, most likely a way to divert attention to his cock. Steve can’t pretend he hasn’t noticed it trying to burst out of his pants. “So he also knows what’s gonna happen next.”

“Don’t,” Bucky says, “he doesn’t deserve that!”

“Deserve what?” Steve asks. He wants to resort to violence. Honestly, for an omega, Steve swings punches more than he should. But this isn’t a back alley brawl. This is a trained killer in the MAD Zone, and Steve’s sure if he attacks, Bucky will too—and he can’t risk Bucky getting hurt again. He looks up at the bruise under Bucky’s eye. That was Steve’s fault. He’s done being the reason Bucky suffers.

“Oh c’mon, Buck. It’s fun and you know it.” Brock pulls out a little vial, shaking it. “Just somethin’ extra to throw you into a frenzy.”

“What?” Steve’s astounded by how even his voice sounds.

Bucky whimpers, ducking his head. He’s submitting. Steve’s so shocked he forgets to breathe. Bucky’s _submitting_ to Brock. Which means, they don’t just know each other. In some, strange roundabout way, Bucky has trusted Brock. They’ve been close, one way or another. Alphas don’t submit to random alphas. It makes sense, why Brock would’ve known why Bucky’s in here.

“What a good boy,” Brock coos. Jack smirks, crossing his arms. “Now take this like the bitch you are and do what I want.” Brock moves closer to Bucky, smiling like the devil himself. “See birdie, we needed you to meet this guy. Thought you’d like him.”

Steve’s eyes widen, watching as Brock pulls out a shot and starts preparing it with the liquid from the vial.

“But he’s a real catch in how good he fucks, and we need you _totally_ lost in heat. Gotta sell it, ya know? And I can’t be the only one who gets to fuck that nice hole of yours. We gotta really make sure everyone knows you’re a lying, dirty slut.” He shrugs. “Once we get the footage, then we can kill ya. Easy, right?”

“You,” Steve says, trembling. “You knew?”

Bucky looks away. “Not exactly.”

“Is this why you tried to get me to fuck you so much?” Steve’s backing up. The room’s spinning too fast. His heart’s up in his throat and if he breathes too quick, he’s sure he’ll choke on it. Everything had been a lie?

Bucky closes his eyes. “Not—exactly.”

Steve wants to vomit. He grabs his stomach, losing his balance. He doesn’t look up. He doesn’t have the heart to. He’d been—there’d been—he thought— _soulmates_. Jesus, his skin is putrid, full of grime and dirt. Bucky’s scent is on him and he scratches at his skin, trying to make it go away. They’re all the same. Every single, sack-of-shit-fuck-face-entitled-dick-bag-knot-head alpha. They’re _all_ the same.

He looks up when the needle slips into Bucky’s neck. But Bucky doesn’t charge at Steve. He moves fast, reaching out and grabbing Brock from the back of the neck. He pushes the man’s head down and brings his knee up to Brock’s face. Jack runs forward, but Bucky ducks and uses Brock to throw into Jack.

“STEVE!” Bucky screams. “ _RUN!”_

Steve does. He leaves the room, listening to the sounds of an alpha resisting a frenzy. It’s—inhuman—the sounds Bucky makes. A snarl wouldn’t encompass the vibrato that rips from Bucky’s throat. A howl wouldn’t define the ear-piercing sound that rushes through the building. Steve finds the door to the stairway when he hears the hinges of another door scream, ripping right off. He turns, sucking in a breath. Bucky’s there, foaming at the mouth, and snarling low in his chest. His fingers are twitching, shoulders raised and tense. Then he runs.

And so does Steve. Steve does his best to skip as many stairs as he can. His knees shake, pain zinging up his spine each time he jumps. He doesn’t have to turn around to know that Bucky is chasing him. He can hear the sounds of a mad dog, out for blood. He can smell the frantic anger and lust that’s pounding away in Bucky’s heart.

Steve jumps a full flight of stairs, tumbling into the wall. He yells from the pain, biting his tongue and tastes copper. “Fuck.” He stands up, liming away before getting his bearings again. He keeps running. Bucky allowed this to happen to _save_ Steve—again. He’d used the power of a frenzy to beat off Brock and Jack, but at what cost? His own personal convictions? The way Steve would look at him? An alpha in a frenzy isn’t just dangerous. They’re downright horrifying. They’re stronger than any other alpha and don’t have any cognitive human reasoning. They’re down to instinct. Those instincts are simple: feed, fuck, and kill. Bucky’s just eaten some of the trail mix. Steve doesn’t want to know if he’s killed Brock or Jack—but in all honesty, he’s pretty sure they’re dead. So that just leaves one last little box to cross off: fuck.

Steve gets to the basement floor, opening the groaning door and slamming it shut behind him. It’s too dark, but the building looks more like an abandoned hospital. There’s stretches cast aside and broken wheelchairs.

Bucky’s at the door, pounding and snarling on the other side. Steve can hear his nails digging into the paint on the metal door. Steve winces, backing up. The deadbolt won’t last at this rate.

It’s almost pitch black and Steve’s tripped on several objects in three seconds. He probably just almost died on an old wheelchair. He sees a glowing red sign at the end of the hall: exit. He bolts for it. His lungs are _pleading_ with him to stop and catch his breath. His heart’s on the verge of giving out, but he _has_ to keep moving. He’s not doing this just for himself, he’s doing this for Bucky too. It’s not Bucky’s choice to do this. Steve can’t let this happen. Bucky would never forgive himself. And if Bucky got too carried away? Well, he could _kill_ Steve.

Steve finds the sewer (a crumbled opening randomly in the hall) and drops down into it. It smells exactly as one would expect. He trudges through the waste water, mashing his teeth together. His boots are now totally ruined. He hears a snarl echo into the sewers and knows Bucky’s not far behind him.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Steve whispers to himself. He has no idea how to navigate out of here, but keeps looking up for a ladder or a manhole.

He falls into the water, gagging on the smell and taste. He doesn’t want to know what’s dead in the water, what’s floating or how long it’s been floating. He spits it out as fast as he can, scrambling back up and sloshing forward.

He hears a low, menacing growl.

Steve stops, looking around in the blackened sewer tunnel. His breath is coming out in sharp, jagged, vibratos, his limbs shaking so hard he’s sure he’s sprained a joint. He’s being hunted. Bucky is _hunting_ him.

“B-B-Bucky?” The word echoes into the sewer. He hears a scratch echo off the walls, but then nothing. He’s not sure why he calls out to him. Perhaps it’s that last-ditch effort not to die at the hands of someone Steve was beginning to like. If it’s just rape, Steve winces, he’s not sure he could ever forgive Bucky for that, even if it wasn’t really his fault.

Steve closes his eyes. He can’t get out. He doesn’t know where he is, how far he has to go or if he’ll just find himself cornered. He turns around, feeling tears warm the corners of his eyes. “Okay—okay you win.”

Nothing.

“Just—d-don’t hurt me.”

Steve feels Bucky’s heat behind him. A burning hot hand grabs his neck and he’s pushed against the wall, legs spread. Bucky noses along Steve’s neck, sniffing loudly, still growling.

“Easy, Buck.” Words can’t save Steve, and yet he’s still trying. All things considered, being accidently killed while fucking can’t be the worst way to die. Drowning in the sewer though? That prospect sounds horrible. He reaches back, scratching behind Bucky’s ear.

Bucky pulls back, biting Steve’s fingers. Steve yelps, pulling his hand back and cradling it against his chest. He’s sobbing, letting Bucky crowd up against him to turn him around. Then Bucky’s pressing his erection to Steve, thrusting his hips hard enough to knock Steve around. His face keeps getting smushed against the damp wall. It’s slick with slime and doesn’t hurt as much as it just disgusts Steve.

Bucky grabs Steve’s hips, moving his erection up and down Steve’s covered ass. He’s still growling in Steve’s ear, nuzzling his neck. He licks out, a quick, serpentine stripe over Steve’s bare neck.

Steve sees white. This isn’t just fucking—Bucky’ll mate him like this. The idea hurts Steve more than the thought of being raped. This is _not_ Bucky’s choice. Not one bit of Bucky’s reasoning is working, not one bit of his own goals or intentions in life are being adhered to. Brock slipped that needle into Bucky’s neck, and Bucky lost himself entirely. It’s just as much rape against Bucky as it is against Steve, and that thought is what makes Steve stop giving up and start working to get through this.

Lips trembling, Steve reaches behind him, finding Bucky’s head. He scratches the scalp, working his fingers down to Bucky’s neck. “You’re in there,” he says, “c’mon, Buck, don’t do this.”

Bucky’s reply is a snarl and Steve’s shoved down into the water, his legs kicked open so he’d be presenting if he didn’t have boxers on. Steve turns over, crab-walking backwards in an attempt to buy him whatever time he can.

“This isn’t you!” Steve watches the way Bucky freezes each time he speaks. So he keeps going, “You’re the guy that tries to rescue omegas from shit-heads. The guy that gives me clothes because mine are gross. The guy that teaches me how to dance and tells me I’m pretty.”

Bucky balls his fists up, whining.

“Please, Buck,” Steve says. “You’re _better_ than this.”

Bucky falls to his knees, sewer water spraying around him as he does. He hangs his head, whimpering like he’s been injured.

“It’s okay,” Steve says. He shifts forward, walking on his knees toward Bucky. He reaches out a trembling hand, cupping Bucky’s face. Bucky snarls in warning. “You won’t hurt me.” He shrugs, like this is not a frenzied alpha in front of him. Most of the time, when people describe Steve, one of the more common traits listed is: impulsive. It’s impulse that Steve cups Bucky’s face, but it’s his intelligence that makes him sure this is okay. He doesn’t know Bucky—not really, but he _understands_ Bucky.

Bucky wraps his arms around Steve, pushing his face against Steve’s chest. He whines. It echoes over and over in the sewer cavern. Steve’s eyes lower, a smile on his face. He pets Bucky’s hair, his other hand still on Bucky’s face; thumb stroking the cheek.

“You’re okay,” Steve says, “I’ve gotcha.”

Bucky pushes his head harder into Steve’s chest. He picks Steve up, pulling him into his lap and holding on like his life depends on it. Steve squirms, trying to find a way to breathe in such a bone-crushing embrace. He finds it, letting his head fall forward on Bucky’s shoulder, his arms around Bucky’s neck. They’re soaked to the core from sewer water, but Bucky doesn’t seem bothered, and Steve’s unsure if talking about that would break Bucky’s focus on trying to combat the frenzy.

There’s a part of Steve that’s still afraid of Bucky. He _is_ an alpha. He _is_ in a frenzy. And he _is_ holding Steve in his lap. He’s twice Steve’s size and obviously well-trained in combat (or Steve thinks, that move on Brock with the neck-thing was pretty cool). So for Steve to pretend that he’s perfectly fine with the situation is entirely wrong. He’s not fine. He’s scared out of his wits and is praying to God Almighty that things will be okay.

Bucky grunts, nuzzling Steve’s neck. “Want,” he says.

Steve nods softly. It’s not consent, just understanding. He squeezes Bucky in his embrace a little tighter. “I know.”

“Cupcakes,” Bucky says. He pulls back a bit, looking at Steve’s eyes. “I want—cupcakes.”

Steve blinks, confused.

Bucky smiles. “Cause you smell like ‘em.”

“Bucky?”

Bucky nods, letting out a relieved sigh. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“Oh Jesus!” Steve throws his arms back around Bucky, squeezing with all his might. Bucky laughs, squirming beneath Steve.

“Easy! Hormones still make me crazy.”

“Oh, s-sorry.” Steve pulls back, but he doesn’t get off Bucky’s lap. “I thought—man I was so scared.”

Bucky clicks his tongue. “I didn’t wanna tell you.”

“That you were workin’ for Brock?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I was never workin’ for him. I just know him. He asked me to—he asked if I’d be okay with fuckin’ an omega on camera. He never told me it was you, and he never told me he was gonna kill you.”

“Oh.”

Bucky dips his chin. “I said yes, because, I really didn’t think I was worth anything else.”

Steve doesn’t reply. It’s often easier to let Bucky keep talking when he finally gets going. Steve’s usually a chatty-Kathy, but Bucky seems to pick how many words he uses like there’s a limited supply.

“I was wrong,” Bucky finally says.

“Wrong?”

Bucky shrugs a shoulder. “I am worth something.” He meets Steve’s eyes in the darkness, Steve can’t see them, but he knows they’re staring right into each other’s souls right now. He feels it in the way his spine tingles. “I’m not just a big, dumb alpha. I’m better than that.”

Steve laughs. Relief floods through him, washing away the sewage and the scent. It washes away any apprehension Steve had left lingering in his body. It’s cool and crisp and it makes Steve’s world spin in elation.

“We should get outta here,” Bucky says. Steve can’t deny that he’s a little upset that Bucky’s changing the subject. He does have other questions now, unfortunately.  How did he meet Brock? Did he run into Steve on purpose? It shouldn’t matter to Steve—but it all does. Steve can forgive a lot of things. But he has to at least know the full story first.

They don’t talk until Bucky’s pulling Steve out of a manhole. They’re dripping wet and Steve’s shivering from the nip in the air. Thunder rumbles far off, but they’re in no danger of getting rained on any time soon.

They find a beaten down storefront and Bucky scopes out the place before bringing Steve in. There’s even some soda cans still full. The carbonation is pretty weak, but Steve still guzzles it all down. It’s not as good as water, but it’s good enough for now. Bucky brings some canned foods (spam and beans) into the freezer where they’re going to bunker down for the rest of the night. There’s no power, so the place is relatively warm. Bucky sets down a lantern and turns it on. Little white light permeates the freezer.

“Hungry?” Bucky asks, popping open one of the spam cans.

“Dunno if I’m ready to eat that,” Steve says, smirking. “You go ahead.”

“You know, a heat makes you use up calories twice as much. You really should eat to keep from gettin’ sick or dizzy.”

“I’m fine, Bucky.” Stubborn as always. Steve sits back against the wall. The little freezer is small enough that he and Bucky are taking up most of the room. “Hey, do you think we’ll run out of oxygen in here?”

Bucky snorts. “It ain’t airtight, Steve. ‘Sides, I can open the door if we need. I just thought when we were sleepin’, we may wanna lock it. Not yet though.”

Steve nods. “Hand me the beans?”

Bucky smiles knowingly, tossing the can over to Steve.

“The MAD Zone sucks.”

Bucky laughs. “Tell me about it.”

“Hey uh—can I ask you somethin’?” Now’s a good a time as any. The question is only burning a hole through Steve’s sternum.

“You wanna know somethin’? I didn’t tell you the whole story about what happened with me and that omega.” Bucky’s too smart for his own good. He sighs heavily, sitting back. He scoops out some of the spam, nibbling on it. “After she cleaned me up, I grabbed her hips. She didn’t tell me no, but—she didn’t exactly say yes either. I started grindin’ on her. I don’t think—I don’t think I’d ever rape her but—the cops came then. They filled in the blanks and she was so embarrassed she went right along with it.”

Steve’s eyes widen.

“I didn’t rape her. I’m pretty damn sure I wouldn’t rape anyone.”

Steve feels his chest burn.

“No,” Steve says, “you wouldn’t.” Steve’s rather certain he wouldn’t now, because he’s had every opportunity with Steve. Even when he was in a frenzy.

“I’m exhausted.” Bucky stretches, yawning. “You care if we just go to bed? I can find us some blankets I think.”

Steve nods, tapping on his beans. They’re not exactly tasty. Bucky’s a conundrum. Steve wants to trust him, but part of him holds back. He wants to like Bucky, but again, he’s held back. It’s not that Bucky’s an alpha that makes Steve distrusting. It’s the circumstance that they’re both here, one in rut and one in heat—and they’re not clawing each other’s clothes off. Steve’s soaked still, shivering slightly but still has his clothes on. It’s unfair to judge Bucky, but Steve still finds a way to. Bucky’s a privileged alpha. He’s large, handsome and well, an _alpha_.

But he’d helped Steve, and he didn’t need to.

Bucky comes back with a clump of blankets. He plops them down before sitting next to Steve, shoulders touching. Steve doesn’t back away.

“Alphas don’t exactly need blankets.”

Steve nods. “I’m freezing.”

“We should get out of our clothes. We stink, too.”

Steve smiles. “Yeah, we do.” Steve grabs one of the blankets, using it as a way to hide his nakedness while he strips. Bucky, sensing Steve’s discomfort probably, closes his eyes and throws his hands up to block them for good measure.

Steve appreciates it. Once he’s naked and twisted up in some of the blankets, he taps Bucky on the shoulder. “You’re turn.”

Bucky laughs quietly. He stands up, pulling his shirt over his shoulders. Steve should’ve closed his eyes, but he doesn’t. He sees huge scarring all over Bucky’s body, mostly focused on his arm in angry red, shining lines.

“What happened?”

Bucky looks at his left arm, shrugging. “MAD Zone happened.”

“Oh.” Steve looks away. He shouldn’t be looking. Bucky respected him enough to avert his gaze, so why is Steve geting to peek when Bucky hadn’t? That’s a double-standard if there ever was one.

“You can look,” Bucky says. “I don’t mind.”

“But you’re about to take your pants off,” Steve says, eyes closed.

“Yeah, but—I don’t mind.”

Steve snorts. “You just want me droolin’ over your dick.”

“Maybe I do.”

Steve hears the shuffling sounds of wet jeans being tugged down. He opens an eye, too curious to hold back. Bucky’s body _is_ beautiful. The scarring isn’t really something to be put off by either. His abs are taut, chest broad and sculpted. And his cock—fuck. He’s still erect. Steve supposes he’s been that way all day. Steve’s been horny all day, so he can only assume it’s been the same for Bucky. It’s red and swollen, dipped up in the most beautiful curve Steve’s ever seen. Dicks aren’t really something to marvel at. They’re gangly and awkward but Bucky’s is? Beautiful?

“You like what you see?” Bucky’s smile is positively knowing. He trails a finger down the middle of his abs for dramatic effect. Steve almost whines.

“You’re an ass,” Steve says. “And you’re still not fuckin’ me.”

Bucky wraps a blanket around his hips, nodding. “I’m not aimin’ for that. But I do wanna know you.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky nods. “Mhm. I think I could learn a lot from you.”

Steve scratches his thumb, smiling. “That’s—I’d like that.”

Bucky sits back down, stretching out his legs. He’s so tall they hit the other side of the freezer (not like it was a big freezer to begin with). He reaches out to Steve, shrugging. “C’mon, I’m more comfortable than the floor.”

Steve pretends like he’s bothered by the idea, blowing a raspberry and rolling his eyes. “I guess,” he drawls. He curls up in Bucky’s arms, nestling against that warm chest. “At least I’ll be warm.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says sleepily. “You will.”

Steve doesn’t remember if Bucky locked the freezer or not, but it doesn’t matter. They sleep soundly through the night and nothing at all bothers them.

* * *

Morning’s a bit startling to Steve. He’s blanketed by Bucky’s body, the two of them spooning on the freezer floor. Bucky’s breath is warm against his neck, and Bucky’s nuzzling his nose along Steve’s unclaimed skin. Steve’s frozen, barely breathing as he feels Bucky’s hips move slowly. He’s not erect anymore, but he’s still distantly thrusting against Steve.

Steve inhales sharply, wondering if he should get up or try to wake Bucky. Being force claimed like this? After they’d escaped so much last night? Fought with their instincts all day? For it all to end in this?!

Bucky kisses Steve’s neck, mumbling sleepily, “Mornin’.”

Steve hates himself. The kiss was surprising, but the fears he’d had about Bucky were entirely unwarranted. Guilt fills him like sandbags. He slumps back into Bucky, breathing easier. “Morning.”

Bucky scoots away, groaning as he sits up to stretch. “Sleep okay?”

“You just kissed me.”

Bucky blinks once. Twice. “I—what?”

“You kissed my neck.”

Buky turns, gaze zoning in on Steve’s neck. “There’s no bite.”

“No—you didn’t bite—you kissed.”

“I know! But I was just—I needed to make sure.” Bucky runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“I didn't—I didn’t mind it. The kiss.”

Bucky’s lips part silently.

“Felt—nice.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah—oh.”

Bucky curls his fingers into his blanket. He wants to say something, it’s clear on his face. His brow twitches a few times, lips pressing into hard lines and then relaxing. He doesn’t say anything. Steve feels a small bit of rejection from that.

“Your rut over?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Lasts for a week.”

“Oh, that sucks.” Steve knew that, but he was still asking anyway. He just needed something to make Bucky talk about. Heats don’t last more than 24 hours as long as no one mates with an omega. If they do, sometimes a heat’ll last a few days, but never too long. It’s not terrible. Menstruation is worse.

“My heat’s over.”

“I know.”

“Can I leave? Should I?”

Bucky sighs, shrugging. “Dunno.”

“Did you—last night—um—did you kill those guys?”

Bucky bites his lip. He doesn’t answer. Steve figures it out from the way the freezer goes more than cold.

“I’m sorry I made you do that.”

“You didn’t make me do anything.”

“You took a frenzy shot, you—I mean—you saved me.”

“Yeah well,” Bucky shrugs, “you saved me too.”

The warmth that floats into Steve is the best feeling in the world. He wants to lean forward to kiss Bucky, but he doesn’t. Somehow, it just doesn’t feel right to do. Not here in the MAD Zone.

“Would you wanna—go on a date?” Steve asks.

Bucky’s head snaps in Steve’s direction. “What?!”

“A date. Ya’know, movies and dinner? Or I mean—if you don’t like that, we could go to a park? A sports game? I like baseball.”

“An omega is askin’ me out,” Bucky says, more to himself.

“I’m not traditional.”

“I gathered that already.” Bucky bumps his shoulder with Steve’s, smirking.

“So, date?”

“Yeah. Yeah that sounds good.”

Leaving the MAD Zone is pretty easy. There’s a medical checkover and then Steve’s free to go. Bucky’s still in rut, so they part before the exit gates. All they do is hug. It was a nice hug, deep and Steve may or may not have been picked up and swung around a few times, but it was just a hug. They left knowing each other’s numbers and Steve even gave Bucky his address. Steve could’ve died in there, but he didn’t. Bucky saved him. And apparently, he saved Bucky too.

The idea bubbles in Steve’s chest, proud. He’d saved an alpha. Him, little 90 pound Steve Rogers, saved an alpha.

Steve leaves the Zone, feeling more hopeful than he has in a long time. He wants Bucky’s rut to be over so they can go on their date. He wants to find Natasha so he can get her to help him find out who put him in the MAD Zone. He also wants a chili cheese dog something fierce. Oh and Sam. He just wants Sam because he just wants Sam.

Still. Drama aside. He has a date.

No ruts, no heats, no freaky men trying to get Bucky to rape him. Just dinner and a movie. The idea fill Steve up with so much joy he’s practically floating.

It can’t come soon enough.

* * *

**6 Months Later**

“You okay?” Natasha asks. They’re standing in the dark off to the side of the stage. There’s thousands of people out in the audience, and they’re all here for Steve. Six months. Six months and Steve used his forced MAD Zone attendance to his advantage. He didn’t ask to be an activist, not really. It just became part of him. He didn’t go into silence or fear for his life. He used that event to get louder. Now he had more evidence than ever. And the more evidence he had, the more enemies he made. He’s missed his death several times since being in the MAD Zone. He’s had to get a constant alpha bodyguard and when he goes into heat, he locks himself away in a room with nothing but toys and videos to keep him company.

Each time he wants to call Bucky. They’ve been on dates. A lot actually. But Bucky has to go to the MAD Zone each time he ruts and Steve’s heat is synced to Bucky’s heat. It’s not that they’d have sex anyway. They’re both more than okay with going slowly with this. It’d just be nice to have him around again, someone to hold Steve while he shakes through his heat.

“Hey,” Natasha’s voice. “I said you okay?”

“Oh. Oh yeah.” Steve clears his throat. “Just nervous. Lotsa people out there.”

Natasha smiles. “You can do it. We all believe in you.” She gives him a quick hug, pulling back with a scrunched up face.

“What?”

“You smell like a campfire.”

“Oh.” Steve blushes, staring at his shoes. “I saw Bucky before he—well he’s still serving his sentence.”

Natasha nods, swallowing. Steve can see the hesitance in her eyes. He’d told her about Bucky, but like most people, she didn’t believe Bucky’s story. Sam had been too pissed to think there could be anyone innocent in the MAD Zone except for Steve. They both wanted nothing to do with Bucky.

“He’s a good guy, Nat,” Steve whispers.

Her response is a raised brow and crossed arms.

Steve sighs, looking out on the stage. He’s waiting to be introduced as an omegas rights activist. He’ll talk about the abolishment of the MAD Zone, but tonight, he won’t just talk about it for the omega. He’ll talk about the alpha too—the ones like Bucky.

When he ends his speech, he receives a standing ovation and several alphas ask for selfies with him later that night. All he thinks about is one alpha, one alpha stuck and alone in the MAD Zone.

* * *

“I’ve gotta go back,” Bucky says. He’s lying on Steve’s sofa. His shirt’s off because he’s always too hot in Steve’s apartment. Steve’s been drawing him, so it was kind of a bonus to have Bucky shirtless.

“What? But, it’s been a year.”

Bucky smiles sadly. “Three year sentence. Once a month.” He sits up. “I’ll start sometime tonight.”

“Why didn’t you tell me how long it was?”

Bucky shrugs, nibbling his lower lip. “S’not somethin’ I really meant to hide from you. Just—I didn’t wanna upset you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m not upset, Bucky. I’m just sad.”

“S’for the best.” Bucky stands up, picking up his shirt. “Your friends hate me anyway, so this just keeps me away from matin’ you.”

Steve’s gaze flattens. “Why do you joke like that?”

Bucky looks over his shoulder, brow cocked. “Huh?”

“About mating me. Would it really be so bad for us to mate?”

Bucky’s eyes widen.

“I mean,” Steve slips from his reading chair, putting his sketchbook down, “I’ve thought about it. You n’ me. Would it really be so bad? Us together?”

“Steve—”

“Mate me, Bucky. I want it to be you.”

Bucky shakes his head, stepping back. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Bucky looks away. He’s breathing faster now, a light red dusting against his chest. His rut’s slowly oncoming. Steve can see the sweat at Bucky’s temples. “You don’t want me, not really.” His voice is so soft that Steve almost misses it.

“Why not?”

“I’m a criminal.”

Steve walks forward, gently taking Bucky’s hands. He kisses rough palms, nuzzling the inside of the wrist. “You’re my hero.”

Bucky’s eyes soften. “You’re mine.”

“So it’d make sense for us to mate then. You don’t just see me as somethin’ to knock up and continue your line. I’m your friend.”

Bucky nods.

“And I don’t see you as some dickhead. You’re my friend too.”

Bucky licks his lips.

“So—why not? This makes sense, Bucky. Mate me.” He smirks, excitement tingling the inside of his skin. “I wanna be yours.”

“Jesus, Steve.” Bucky falls back on the sofa again, staring up with reverent eyes. “I wanna be yours too.”

“So mate me.” Steve tilts his head to the side, slipping into Bucky’s lap. “I’ve got smooth skin, Buck. You’d like it, bitin’ me right there.” He brings his neck to Bucky’s mouth, feeling the softest tremble of Bucky’s lips. Bucky takes in a shaky breath, grabbing Steve’s hips.

“I wanna so bad.”

“So do it. You won’t have to finish your sentence if you’re mated. Not a danger anymore.”

“You’ve been readin’ up on law, huh?”

“Common knowledge, jackass.” Steve licks Bucky’s ear. “Mate me, alpha.” He rocks his hips forward, grinding over Bucky’s erection. He’s not in heat yet, but if Bucky bites him, he’ll be thrown right into it. It’s the only time that Steve’s body would ever do it, and it’s said to be better that way. He doesn’t have anything to compare it to, but he assumes anything with Bucky would be better than anything else.

“Oh fuck, Steve.” Bucky leans back, running his hands down Steve’s clothed torso. “You’re so damn pretty. I’m not worth you.”

Steve peers out from dark, thick lashes, smirking. “Yes you are. Mate me—mate me please.” He loses his seductive composure for a second, eyes flaring wide. “Only if you want, I mean. I’ll get the fuck off right now if you don’t!”

Bucky barks out a laugh, nuzzling into Steve’s chest. “I wanna Steve, no worries there.”

“Oh,” Steve tangles his fingers into Bucky’s hair, still rocking his hips, “good.”

“Good’s right.” Bucky picks Steve up and wraps his legs around Bucky’s torso. He sets Steve down on the kitchen counter for a moment, brushing their noses together. “I wanna kiss you first.”

Steve nods, closing his eyes. “Do it then.”

Bucky’s lips are silk and he tastes slightly like burnt honey. Steve whines into the kiss, wrapping his fingers tighter into Bucky’s hair. Bucky growls low in his throat, reaching up to cup Steve’s cheek. He traces his thumb along Steve’s jaw. He moves his lips slow, careful to savor Steve’s. Their breath mixes and Steve’s slightly embarrassed if maybe his breath is bad, but Bucky gives no indication that he’s not enjoying this, so Steve doesn’t stop. He opens his eyes, watching the way Bucky kisses. Bucky kisses with a furrowed brow, like he’s trying to give more of himself than just his mouth and tongue. He rocks his shoulders too, slipping his chest against Steve’s and his hands roam. One still tucked up against Steve’s cheek and the other cupping one of Steve’s pecs (if they can be called that…) He pulls back, eyes slowly slipping open.

“You’re beautiful.”

Bucky blushes, smiling with shiny red lips. “Yeah? Beautiful?”

Steve nods. “You’re a good kisser too.”

“So’re you, cupcake.”

Steve snorts. “Oh not this again.”

Bucky picks Steve up, spinning him around once. Steve squeals in delight, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s broad shoulders. “Wanna do this right, Steve. So, bedroom?”

Steve nods. “Bedroom.”

Bucky carries Steve to the bedroom, kissing him all along the way. Steve’s been exploring Bucky’s chest, tracing the raised scarring on his shoulder and slipping fingers along his defined pectoral muscles. He breathes wide with his chest and it rises and falls pointedly enough to grab Steve’s attention.

Bucky puts Steve on the bed, laying him out and slipping between Steve’s legs. He’s careful not to put too much weight on Steve. He kisses Steve’s nose, along his cheeks and chin. “I could do this forever.”

“I’m fine with that, except you need to mate me before tomorrow.”

Bucky groans. “Yeah. I hate knowin’ we gotta rush.”

“I don’t mind it,” Steve says, cupping Bucky’s face. “It’s worth it instead of waiting another week without you in my life.”

“Yeah?” Bucky gets that reverent look in his eyes again. His eyes shimmer like moonlight on the ocean. Steve wants to paint these eyes on paper, but he knows he could never catch the way they shimmer like that. He’d still like to try.

“Mate me, Bucky.”

“Barnes.”

Steve cocks a brow.

“My last name’s Barnes. You should probably know it’s gonna be yours now too.”

“Steve Barnes, huh?”

Bucky nods. “That okay? Do you wanna turn back yet? At least it’s not Lipschitz.”

“I wouldn’t even care if it was Buttkiss.” Steve kisses Bucky’s nose lightly. “I’d take it anyway.”

“You’re gettin’ too romantic for me.” Bucky’s blushing hard now, but Steve’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or his rut. “I dunno if I can keep up with it.”

“Try.” Steve wiggles under Bucky, squeezing his legs tight around Bucky’s torso. “I’ll bet you could be a romantic. You’ve got a hero complex after all.”

Bucky snorts. He nuzzles Steve’s neck, licking over where he’ll bite soon enough. “I love this.”

“Love what?”

Bucky trails his nose around in circles on Steve’s neck. “This little neck. It’s mine now.” He kisses it, a quick peck. “I wanna claim you, but I also wanna cherish this. We only get one time.”

Steve nods. “See, romantic.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I just—I want you to know that I’ll never hurt you. I’ll never abuse your trust or make you do anything you don’t want to. You’re too strong for that anyway. But I mean—you’re my equal. You’re not my property. I just needed you to hear that. Cause I respect you.”

Steve traces the curve of Bucky’s eyelids, going down the shadow along his cheeks. “I know you do. S’why I trust you to mate me. S’why I want you too.”

“Do you want—uh—do you want kids? I mean, I feel like there’s a lot we should’ve talked about before this.” Bucky suddenly looks dizzy.

Steve laughs, pushing his head into Bucky’s collarbone. He nips at it softly, lapping at the little dents he’d made in the skin.

“Mmm, that’s nice.” Bucky rocks into Steve, dropping his head on the pillow.

“I wouldn’t mind kids. But I’m in no hurry.”

“Me either.” Bucky bites his lip, giggling. “But _God_ , you’d look so pretty pregnant. Your skin already glows.” He traces the pads of his fingers along the curve of Steve’s neck. “Can’t wait to see it when you’ve got that pregnant glow.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Hey, no rush! Don’t knock me up on our mating night. That’d totally suck.”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, sure would. I wanna keep tryin’ with you. Don’t be too fertile, okay?”

“Oh my God, stop talking now.”

Bucky nuzzles Steve’s neck. He laps at it, whining softly. Steve knows that sound. He’s heard it before when Bucky almost force-mated him in the sewer. It’s not so scary anymore. Bucky _wants_ him. He’s eager to mark Steve’s skin and bond them forever. It’s the sound of a man who knows this is exactly what he wants. Steve couldn’t be happier. He doesn’t care that Nat and Sam are protective of him. He knows Bucky Barnes better than they do. This is the one for him. Game over. Steve’s pleased with his decision.

“Do it now,” Steve says. “I want this.” He wiggles under Bucky. “Don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Bucky pulls back. He stares at Steve, searching for answers that Steve doesn’t know. His gaze trails along Steve’s face, his neck and back up again. “This is the last moment we’ll ever have without each other.”

“Good riddance.” Steve laughs. “Now mate me, jerk!”

Bucky moves fast and bites. He sinks his teeth into Steve’s neck, sucking at the blood and soothing the sting with his tongue. Steve used to wonder if this would hurt. It stings a bit, but it pulls out an intense pleasure that he’s never felt before. His loins are burning and he’s soaking through his pants already. His knees tingle, his eyes refuse to stay open. He sees flashes of color behind his lids, listening to Bucky’s breathing against his neck and the adorable whimpers that Bucky’s still making.

Steve’s so turned on he almost throws Bucky off him to sit down on his cock. They’ve thrown themselves into the deep and now mated—they don’t have to hold back anymore.

Bucky pulls back, tilting his head for Steve to bite. Not all alphas let the omega scar their neck too, but Bucky said they were equals, and he’s offering it out. He’s shivering atop Steve, his hand tracing along Steve’s jaw. “Mate me too.” As if his intentions hadn’t been clear before.

Steve leans forward, taking Bucky’s neck between his teeth and biting as hard as he can. It has to hurt. It’s not a mating bite. An omega’s throat has glands at the mating spot. They release when an alpha’s saliva dips inside. For Bucky, Steve’s just biting him hard enough to leave a lasting mark that they may have to redo a few times in the future. It’ll scar sure, but it’s not designed to last like the mating mark on Steve’s neck. The mating mark injects the alpha’s DNA into the omega through saliva into the blood and the blood the alpha drinks injects the omega’s DNA into the alpha. It creates the bond. Steve biting Bucky is more symbolic than practical, but he appreciates Bucky tenfold for the gesture.

Bucky whines, long and sharp. Steve does his best to soothe the pain. He tastes copper when his tongue glides over the wound. He kisses it a few times, admiring the way his teeth made a perfect circle on Bucky’s neck.

“How’s it look?” Bucky asks, breathing roughly.

“Almost as beautiful as you.”

Bucky looks at Steve with hooded eyes and a doting smile. “You’re beautiful—and you’re mine.”

Steve nods, giggling. “Now stick your fuckin’ dick in me before I go insane.”

Bucky laughs, pulling back and tugging Steve up. He wastes no time with peeling clothes off. He removes both of their clothing before headbutting Steve back onto the bed, laughing still.

“What the hell!” Steve tries to hide his cock, but Bucky swats his hand away.

“Nu-uh. I’ve thought about what you look like naked for way too long. I wanna see it now.”

Steve pulls his hands away, holding his breath. He’s nervous. He’s not built or broad. He’s mostly bone and ribs jut out like snaggly teeth along the milky white skin of his stomach.

“Oh Steve.” Bucky leans over to kiss each rib peeking out. He trails wet kisses down the middle of Steve’s torso, swirling his tongue around Steve’s navel.

Steve whines, feeling his ass get wetter. He opens his legs more, hoping Bucky will keep going further south.

Bucky places light nibbles along each hipbone before nibbling on Steve’s thighs. He stops, looking up. “You’ve got a cute little cock.”

Steve looks away. “All omegas have small cocks…” He’s pouting.

“I know! But I like yours.”

Steve wants to kick Bucky. He crosses his arms over his chest, huffing.

“Hey!” Bucky crawls back up, pulling Steve into his arms. “Don’t be like that. I was just admirin’ you. I lo— I mean, well, yeah—I love you. Nothin’s gonna change that.”

“Yeah?” Steve tries to blink tears from his eyes, but it’s nigh impossible. He sniffs, wiping them away. Bucky pulls his hand away, catching the tears with his thumb.

“Shh, Steve. I gotcha. I’m gonna spend the rest of my life tellin’ you how much I love you.”

“How did I get so lucky with you?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah, you settled for me. I got lucky.”

“Whatever.”

Bucky smirks, lapping at the fresh mating mark on Steve’s neck. “I love you, cupcake.”

“Whatever, campfire.” Though now that Steve really smells it, it really is more like burnt honey and brown sugar—not really fire. Burn yes, but fire? No. But it’s easier to say.

Bucky smiles darkly, his teeth glinting against the harsh streetlamp outside. He pulls Steve’s legs apart, kissing the hollow behind Steve’s knee. “Wanna taste you everywhere.”

Steve shivers. “Please do.”

Bucky hums. He pulls Steve into his lap and then lies back. “So, I know this isn’t exactly gonna sound romantic, but I really just want you to sit on my face so I can eat you out.”

Steve blinks a few times before a laugh finally bubbles up his throat. Bucky’s grin is pure cheese and Steve flicks his nose for that. “Yeah?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah you control it better that way.”

“You really are all about making us equals.”

Bucky nods. “Damn straight, cupcake.”

Steve rolls his eyes, shoving Bucky’s head back and scooting up to his face. He’s slightly embarrassed about shoving his ass against Bucky’s face, but Bucky wants it. They’re mated anyway. It’s not like Bucky can change his mind anymore. He should’ve sampled the goods before buying—too late now though. Steve’s not really sure Bucky’s a sample before buying kind of guy though. He’d known what he wanted with Steve, and he’d been patient enough for it.

Steve shivers when he feels Bucky’s tongue swirl around his hole. Bucky’s hand crawls around Steve’s thigh to grab at Steve’s cock. He strokes it softly, more of an afterthought than his main concern. Steve drops his head back, curving his spine backwards. He rocks his hips over Bucky’s face, taking more of Bucky’s tongue inside him. It slips in easy. Steve’s in full-blown heat and dripping wet for his mate. His _mate_. Bucky moans into Steve, lapping harder against Steve’s rim. He sucks softly, using his lips to cover the muscle while his tongue pushes inside. He swirls and swirls and swirls. Steve doubles over, reaching out with shaking arms while Bucky works him. He doesn’t need to stretch Steve out. Steve’s more than ready to be entered, but Steve’s pretty sure that’s not why Bucky’s doing this.

Bucky _likes_ this. Steve looks over his shoulder, panting. Bucky’s cock is red and thick, straining. He can see the veins pulse with desire. He reaches back, thumbing over the tip.

Bucky makes a sound but it’s too muffled for Steve to really describe it. He keeps eating Steve out, his tongue slipping in and out faster.

“Oh God,” Steve whispers. He traces his dainty fingers along Bucky’s tip, smearing precome around.

Bucky pumps at Steve’s cock more, giving it a little squeeze.

Steve can’t hold his balance like this anymore. He has to withdraw from Bucky’s cock, balancing out on his arms again. Bucky’s stroking faster, flicking his wrist and making sure to circle his thumb at the underside of Steve’s tip.

Steve loses it, coming in spurts and crying out. He scrambles away, accidently falling off the bed.

Bucky loses it—but it’s not come he’s spurting out—it’s laughter.

“I hate you!” Steve crosses his arms, still dizzy from his orgasm. He looks at his chest, seeing some of the silver-like liquid there.

“I’m sorry! I’m—hoh’shit—I’m sorry! It’s just—i-its just!” Bucky stops, grabbing his stomach and barking out laughter. “I’m not laughing at you!”

“Yes you are.” Steve narrows his gaze. He’s not amused.

“Aw, don’t be like that baby!” Bucky crawls over, pulling Steve up. He wraps Steve’s legs around his middle, leaning him against the wall. “That was adorable.”

“It was stupid. It just—it was a lot and I—I don’t know.”

“It was only one.” Bucky smirks like the devil himself.

“You’re an ass.”

“Your ass tastes good, speaking of asses. Sweet as you smell.”

“Gross.” Steve looks away, pretending not to be pleased smitten at that info. He’d certainly tasted himself before, but alphas don’t taste slick the same way omegas do. Omegas don’t taste anything except bitter, earthen flavor. It’s like their bodies are telling them they aren’t designed to eat ass or something. That’s never stopped same-assignment couples though, or alphas and omegas switching positions every now and then. Bodies are weird.

“I love you.” Bucky kisses Steve’s chin.

“Yeah, I guess—I guess I love you too.” Steve looks up sheepishly, shrugging. “Ya gonna knot me now or am I gonna suffer heat quakes alone?”

“Oh I’ll knot you.” Bucky lowers Steve down a bit, his cock right at Steve’s slicked up entrance. “Want the bed, or wanna slip down on me like this first?”

“Fuck me against the wall.” Steve’s eyes grow wide with hunger. He licks the sides of his lips, feeling the head of Bucky’s cock slip between his asscheeks. He drops his head to Bucky’s shoulder, sighing.

“Need a condom.” Bucky’s voice is regretful. “Shit.”

“They’re in the bedside drawer because I’m not an idiot.”

Bucky doesn’t let go of Steve as he walks over to the drawer. “Gotta put you down for a sec.”

Steve stretches on the bed. He wipes off the come on his chest with his sheets. They’ll just have to change them later. It’s going to be a messy night anyway. Steve’s in mated-heat. They’ll be at this all night and most likely tomorrow too. He hopes he has enough condoms.

Bucky picks Steve back up. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and digs his nails into Bucky’s shoulderblades.

“Ouch baby,” Bucky says, but smiling.

“Gonna have to hold on somehow.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Please, you’re makin’ it sound like I’m gonna pound into you. I’m not that good at this.”

Steve laughs. “We have time.”

Bucky kisses Steve on the lips, soft and worshipful. “We do.”

Bucky slips into Steve easily. Steve’s weight helps pull him in and Bucky’s strong enough to control how far Steve slips down or not. Being entered like this, by Steve’s _mate_ is more than he could’ve thought it be. There’s a rush of relaxation that hits him, a fog that soothes his mind. He can breathe easy. He’s not aware of the sweat that makes his skin shiver. Bucky’s warm enough for both of them and he’s radiating it, covering Steve in a warm fog.

Bucky pushes Steve against the wall, rocking in and out of Steve slowly. Steve’s hands slip down to Bucky’s ass and he kneads at the muscle, feeling it ripple and arch with each thrust.

“Oh God,” Steve says, “this is—you feel so good.”

Bucky kisses Steve’s mate mark. “So do you.”

Steve rolls his head back against the wall. “Oh you’re so warm. Fuck—fuck Bucky! Fuck!”

Bucky laughs, kissing Steve’s jaw. “Shh, baby. Don’t get too excited yet.”

Except Steve can’t control it. He’s already digging his fingernails into Bucky’s ass, squeezing his little legs as much as he can around Bucky and arching his back. He’s coming, tingling all over and shaking. He cries out, dropping his head into the crook of Bucky’s neck. Bucky thrusts into him soft and slow, letting Steve’s orgasm ebb and flow easily unlike the frantic one from before. He kisses the side of Steve’s face, whispering sweet nothings about how good Steve is and how he’s so excited they get to spend the rest of their lives together. He’s a damn sap, and Steve’s so _so_ smitten for him.

“I love you,” Steve whispers. “I love you so much. So, so, so much.”

Bucky hums, lapping at the mate mark again. “I love you too.” He’s still inside Steve, thrusting with controlled, slow ministrations. Steve doesn’t know how he can keep control like this. Steve’s scent is everywhere in the room, like a steamy sauna.

“I want you to breed me,” Steve says. Heat’s fogged his mind, but the idea of little Bucky’s running around makes his heart squeeze. “Breed me, breed me.”

“No, cupcake,” Bucky kisses Steve’s temple, “you don’t know what yer sayin’ right now.”

Steve thinks that sounds reasonable, but he’s not sure, all he knows is there’s an obnoxious condom between them. “Want it.” He feels tears at the corners of his eyes. “Want it so bad, Buck.”

Bucky carries Steve over to the bed. He slips out, sitting down and cradling Steve to his chest. He’s stroking his fingers through Steve’s matted hair, nuzzling the top of his head. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s just your heat, baby. You’ll clear up soon.”

“Why—why aren’t you all foggy—or—wait—I mean—”

Bucky laughs. “One of us has to remember our limits. No kids yet. You said so.”

“I did?”

Bucky kisses Steve’s sweaty forehead. “You did.”

“Oh.”

Bucky lies back, leading Steve over to straddle him. Steve swallows, looking at Bucky’s red, swollen cock. It’s so close to knotting. The last thing Steve wants is to see it blow the knot before it’s even inside him. He’s heard about that. What a waste.

“New condom?” Steve asks, blinking through his mental fog.

“New condom.” Bucky grabs one off the bed. Steve doesn’t watch him put it on. He’s too busy counting the freckles on Bucky’s back. He wants to kiss them all, except his body is humming and feels like he’s in a vat of pudding. He couldn’t move even if he tried.

Bucky turns around, crowding atop Steve. He slips between Steve’s spread legs and nuzzles at Steve’s neck. “I love you.”

“You’ve said that so many times.” Steve kisses Bucky’s nose.

“Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“No!” Steve whines, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck. “Don’t ever stop.”

Bucky’s shivering, his fingers just a bit more twitchy than they had been before. He laps at the mate mark again, growing approvingly. “Mine.”

Steve still feels like pudding. “Knot me.”

Bucky slips into Steve with ease. That initial push is like entering heaven. Steve’s bones turn to soup and he lounges beneath Bucky’s strong body, looking up with admiration. He brings shaky hands up to cup at Bucky’s pecs before slipping them down as far as they’ll go.

Bucky growls, smirking.

“I never want you out of me.”

Bucky snorts. “Don’t tempt me.” He rocks gently, slipping out to his tip before slowly easing back in to the hilt. Steve’s nothing but a mewling mess beneath him, trying to move faster to encourage Bucky’s knot. Bucky likes to go slow. Steve doesn’t think too hard on that if it’s preference or just admiration. He likes it too, but he wants that knot.

Steve trails kisses down Bucky’s neck, nibbling at the bite he’d placed there. Bucky hisses, jerking away a bit. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky says, “just stings.”

Steve flicks his tongue out, swirling it around the bite wound. Bucky leans into it this time. He’s still working his cock in and out of Steve’s slick hole. Steve can smell his rut more now. Bucky’s skin is nearing uncomfortably hot. Honey, brown sugar and the distant smell of a campfire wafts in the air, and if Steve breathes in deep enough, he swears he can smell cupcakes.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky rushes out, snapping his hips a little faster. Steve whines in response, squeezing his legs around Bucky. “Gonna—oh fuck—Steve fuck!”

Bucky’s knot blooms inside Steve. It pulls gasps from both men, shivering and clawing at each other like the world may separate them if they don’t. Bucky sucks on the mate mark, whining against Steve’s ear.

Steve stares at the ceiling, mouth agape and whimpering softly as he’s filled uncomfortably tight. Bucky’s knot is large and Steve’s frame is small. He can feel it press against his pelvic bone, and pushing down on his prostate all at once. He gasps again, eyes rounding. “I’m coming!” It startles him, how abrupt and instant it is. He comes, semen just gurgling out his cock and trailing down the base. Bucky grabs it, coaxing pleasure with the rough pads of his fingers. He keeps kissing the mate mark on Steve’s neck, nuzzling it softly.

Steve’s not sure where he stopped existing and _they_ started. But he doesn’t exist anymore. It’s like a track has switched in his mind, someone messing with the wiring. Steve Rogers is dead. Steve Barnes and his mate Bucky? They’re alive. They’re alive and inside each other and it’s more than Steve ever dreamed of. He’d been scared, truth be told. Scared that he’d find an alpha who’d hurt him, or settle for someone not worth his time. He’d been terrified of mating—and now here he is.

Bucky bites at the mate mark, shivering. He’s clutching Steve hard, whispering how much he loves him and how he’ll never do anything to hurt him. It takes Steve a moment to realize he’s coming too. Bucky’s whole body flushes red and he arches into Steve, trying to bury his knot further. Steve gasps, watching the way Bucky’s eyes flutter closed and how he licks the corner of his lips. Steve’s only regret in that moment is that there’s a condom blocking Bucky’s seed from Steve’s uterus. In a moment of clarity, Steve knows he doesn’t want pups now. They have so much to do in terms of equality and activism. Steve can’t drop his desire to see omegas with equal rights, equal pay and proper maternity leave just to settle down and subscribe to the system. But _goddamn_ it’d be nice to feel Bucky’s seed inside him.

Steve kisses Bucky’s eyelashes, squeezing his muscles around Bucky’s knot as hard as he can. Alphas don’t come in short spurts like omegas—it lasts anywhere between five to ten minutes. And in those minutes, alphas are the ones that need protection. Omegas have to guide them through or they could get fearful and violent. It’s an ever-present pleasure with a side of pain. Steve’s been told (by Nat) that the pain often takes over and it almost becomes unbearable.

Bucky’s crying. He’s shaking fiercely now, still trying to lap and nuzzle at Steve’s mate mark. Steve guides his head away, cradling Bucky to his chest. He keeps rhythmically squeezing his muscles around Bucky’s knot, milking him through his orgasm.

“You’re okay,” Steve says. It’s the first coherent thing he’s said in a long time, his mind clear and only focused on Bucky. “I’ve gotcha. You’re safe.”

Bucky whines in response, choking back a sob. He presses his face into Steve’s chest and squeezes his fingers over Steve’s hips. He’s rocking his hips in small, sharp little thrusts.

Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair, kissing his alpha’s forehead. He trails his fingers down the dip in Bucky’s spine and squeezes at Bucky’s ass.

Bucky starts whimpering like a puppy, nuzzling up against Steve’s nipple. Steve’s heart breaks again when he thinks about how this won’t result in pups. He has to remind himself that it’s just his hormones wanting it—not truly him.

“Hurts,” Bucky grunts. He tries to pull out of Steve, and it makes Steve yelp sharply. A knot ripped from a body could seriously injure the omega. They’re locked together.

“I know,” Steve says. He’s not sure what else to do or say. He can only try to make this feel as good as he can for Bucky. Bucky comes in contractions, ebbing and flowing. The intensity wavers and Steve’s beginning to notice a pattern. Bucky moves his hips in that fast motion when he’s at the height of a contraction with a curved spine. When it’s lower, he nestles up into Steve, trying to keep his knot inside (which he doesn’t really have to try but that’s just how Steve can describe it), when it gets to the painful part, Bucky tries to pull out. Steve has to find a way to make sure he doesn’t yank out and destroy Steve’s canal.

“You’re so pretty, Bucky,” Steve says, petting Bucky’s hair. Bucky licks over Steve’s nipple in response. Steve smiles, arching up into the heat of Bucky’s mouth. “Suck on it if it’ll distract you.”

Bucky does. His lips wrap around Steve’s nipple and he sucks so hard it’s almost painful. Steve closes his eyes. He continues petting Bucky’s hair and rocking his hips softly to keep Bucky from getting overstimulated.

When Bucky finally starts coming down from his orgasm, he’s drenched in sweat. It cools against Steve’s body, making him shiver. Fifteen minutes. Bucky endured his orgasm for fifteen minutes. Longer than most.

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, “you’re ‘mazin’. Did n’y one ever tell you that?”

Steve kisses Bucky’s nose, giggling. “You did.”

“Knot’s goin’ down. Thank God.” Bucky gently pushes in and out of Steve’s body, careful to dislodge his knot. He slips out of Steve, wincing. “Jesus.”

“What?” Steve sits up. He’s cold without Bucky’s body lying atop him. He grabs the blankets, trying to get some warmth.

“I just hate how condoms look after I come like that.” He gets off the bed, slipping the condom off over a trashcan. Steve watches, mildly horrified and slightly amused at how come spills over the latex and dribbles into the trash. All those possibilities, now gone.

“It almost makes no sense,” Steve says, thinking.

“Hm?”

“Why alphas come so long. You’re supposed to be all strong and powerful and yet you’re not really—not when you’re coming.”

Bucky walks on his knees back to Steve, kissing his lips quickly. “That’s because it’s a social construct. Alpha and omega were names given by people. It could’ve easily been the other way around. The only issue is that alphas are larger, so it gave the appearance that we’re stronger. But we’re really not. We’ve got more muscle, but omegas push out babies. We couldn’t survive that. I don’t think anyone’s stronger or weaker. I think we’re just good at different things. But still equal.”

Steve smiles, cupping Bucky’s bristly cheek. “You’re so cute.”

Bucky swats Steve’s hand away. “Fuck off.”

“Mmm, sounds nice.” Steve slinks atop Bucky. He carefully reached out, his eyes asking for permission before he touches Bucky’s cock. Bucky leans back, mouth open. He gasps when Steve touches the tip, tracing along the dip into the shaft. “You’re sensitive right now,  yeah?”

Bucky nods.

“So if I did this…” Steve takes his fingernail and gently slides it against the hole in Bucky’s tip.

Bucky gasps, curving into Steve. He wraps his arms around Steve, squeezing as tight as he can. His body’s shaking again. He pushes Steve down but coils up, knees to his chest. He lies on Steve, whimpering softly.

“Wow.” Steve kisses Bucky’s head. He traces a freckle on Bucky’s shoulder. “I didn’t expect that reaction.”

“I can’t decide if I hated that or liked it,” Bucky says. He looks up through his hair, smirking. “But I like you, so I think anything you do I like.”

“So I can do it again?”

Bucky’s eyes go round and he shoves his head up, keeping Steve’s at bay. “Oh no no! Not again.”

Steve snorts. “Dork.”

Bucky turns his face in and kisses Steve’s sternum. “I like you holdin’ me.”

“I like holding you.”

Bucky closes his eyes, nuzzling Steve. “Sleep? We can keep goin’ later. I just—I need to rest.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, sounds good to me.”

* * *

They make love on several other occasions that night. Steve gets curious and tries out several positions that he’d never considered before. He likes missionary the best, but there’s something fun and primal about his ass up in doggy style with his face slammed into the pillows.

They’re at round four now, sweaty and stinking to high heaven of each other. Steve’s trying to coax Bucky’s knot so he can see it without it being inside his ass. Bucky’s shivering atop the sheets, wiggling around like a schoolboy who isn’t used to his cock getting lapped at.

“Hold still!” Steve grabs Bucky’s hips and tries to force him down.

“I can’t! I need more. Cover me with your mouth!”

“But then you’ll knot my throat!”

“So?”

Steve swats Bucky’s inner thigh. Bucky laughs, his cock bouncing with him as he does. Steve takes the tip into his mouth, suckling.

Bucky’s eyes slip closed and he settles back into the mattress. He slips his hand against Steve’s jaw and strokes at it idly. He’s careful in how he rocks up into Steve’s mouth.

Steve’s objective is to blow the knot without it inside him, so he doesn’t want to take it too deep. He uses his hands to stroke the rest and fingers at Bucky’s balls. They’re so fuckin’ red he’s going to knot at any moment. Steve licks down the shaft, tracing the pulsing veins.

Bucky arches off the bed, hissing.

Steve likes doing this. He likes watching Bucky become a mess of syllables and phrases that mostly start and end with ‘fuck.’ He likes the power he has in controlling how Bucky feels. He’d give head all day if Bucky would let him.

“St-Steve! It’s gonna—fuck I’m gonna!” Bucky’s voice cuts off in a sharp whine.

Steve sucks at Bucky’s base, using his hand to keep stroking on the other side and massage the tip. He smiles to himself when he feels Bucky’s cock swell into the knot. He’s damn proud of himself for this. This took a _long_ time to get. His tongue is almost fucking raw from how long it took.

He sits up, taking in the sight. Bucky’s knot is purple at the base, his cock growing into various shades of red and then a pink tip. Steve likes watching the colors blend together, there’s something artistic about it. He’s seen knots before (mostly in science books), but seeing Bucky’s is a little more intimate because it’s his mates knot.

Steve leans over, licking at the swollen base. He trails a wet streak around it, leading his tongue up to the tip to suck on.

“Oh sweet baby Jesus fuck I hate you!” Bucky’s fisting the sheets, doing everything he can not to thrust up into Steve’s face. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

“Shh,” Steve says, kissing the tip. “You love me.” He speaks right over it, his lips dragging along with every syllable.

Bucky whimpers, shivering. “If I come like this—”

“I’ll drink every last drop and let it slip into my mouth.” Steve kisses Bucky’s cock again. “Don’t worry.”

Bucky whines, nodding. “I want that.”

Steve smirks. “I figured you would.” He grabs Bucky’s knot, massaging it. He likes how it tenses and shivers in his palm. He uses his other hand to knead over the tip of the cock.

“Oh fuck Steve!” Bucky’s eyes are closed tight, but a tear slips through. Steve watches it glisten against his mate’s cheek. “This hurts.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“It’s—it’s so—it’s not enough. Ache. I can’t—I don’t know!”

Steve snorts. “You sound like me last night.”

Bucky glares before wincing. “Jesus, fuck! Let me come, baby, please let me come.”

Steve’s a little uncertain how he’ll be able to do this, take all of that come into his mouth and keep it down. Alphas come _a lot_. He’s worried he’ll puke and that’s not really something he wants on his mating night memory. Well, mating morning. They’ve been fucking all night, napping here and there.

Steve wraps his mouth around the tip, using his tongue to massage up and down as he works down the shaft. He grabs Bucky’s knot with both his hands and squeezes around it, coaxing it to release all that built-up come.

Bucky nearly shrieks, but he comes. It’s a rush into Steve’s mouth. A lot slips down, coating Bucky in his own seed and making him slick and shiny. Steve works his mouth open more, taking more of Bucky’s cock into his mouth and swallowing what he can. He’s loud and probably not the prettiest thing to look at right now. His brow is furrowed as he concentrates on using his tongue to guide Bucky’s orgasm into his mouth. Bucky’s squeezing what he can of Steve’s hair. He’s mewling out words that have no meaning and occasionally thrusting up into Steve. Steve gags, momentairly choking on come.

Death by orgasm. What a way to go. Steve wants to laugh, except he’s got a little more important things in his mouth right now.

Bucky’s orgasm doesn’t last nearly as long as the first one did. Each time it’s lasted shorter. He settles back in about five minutes.

Steve’s stomach is rolling, his tongue sick of tasting musk and salt. If only alpha semen tasted like omega slick, like how alphas think omegas taste sweet. He coughs, licking his lips. “Fuck.”

“I hate you,” Bucky says. He’s got his chin dipped, and his brows are pulled together. He’s embarrassed.

Steve reaches out, cupping Bucky’s cheek. “That was amazing and I liked it.”’

“Yeah?”

Steve nods. “I like knowing what your knot looks like. It feels—intimate—to know.” He looks up, smiling.

“Steve Barnes, you’re filthy.” Bucky pulls Steve into him, nuzzling their noses. “Now wash your fuckin’ mouth so I can kiss it again.”

“What! You’re not gonna kiss me! I let you kiss me after you ate my ass!”

Bucky laughs. “Brush teeth! I’m a hypocrite!” He picks Steve up, carrying him over to the bathroom. Steve pretends to fight the whole way, grabbing the wall or the lamp. They make it into the bathroom and both brush their teeth.

The mint helps settle Steve’s stomach.

Steve’s sitting on the toilet seat, watching Bucky wash his face of sweat. This is nice, the two of them. Now that Bucky’s mated, his ruts will only sync with Steve’s heats. He won’t have to suffer that week long rut anymore, trying to find a mate. Steve’s heats may last more than a day now, but at least they’ll be spent with Bucky. He really doesn’t mind. Sure, he could take heat suppressants, but there’s really no point in it when he would rather fuck. Maybe he should get birth control though—so at least Bucky won’t have to wear condoms anymore.

“I’m starving,” Steve says. He’s really not—he’s full of alpha come. But getting some fruit may be good for him.

Bucky dabs his face dry and hangs the green towel back on the rack. “Whatya what?”

Steve shrugs. “Dunno.”

Bucky leans on the wall, crossing his arms. He’s naked, flaccid and gorgeous. Steve wants to scoop his cock into his mouth and coax it back erect, but they really should actually eat real food.

“We can look through your fridge and see what’s all there.” Bucky crouches in front of Steve, offering his back out. “I wanna carry you.”

Steve laughs, but he slips onto Bucky’s back and hooks his ankles together. Bucky kisses Steve’s hands the way over the kitchen (it’s a studio apartment afterall). He puts Steve down in one of the barstools and then walks around the counter to the refrigerator.

“Eggs?”

“Ew, no.” Steve can already feel his stomach prepare to puke. He liked seeing Bucky’s knot, but maybe he won’t be guzzling come down next time…

“Bacon?”

“Pass.”

Bucky pulls out yogurt and an orange.

“That’s perfect.”

Bucky eyes him knowingly, crossing his arms. “I’m gonna make bacon and toast for myself.”

Steve nods, tearing the peel off the orange. “So you didn’t check into the MAD Zone today.”

Bucky nods. “They’ll find me soon enough.”

Steve winces. “And what’ll happen?”

“We show them the mate mark and the charges end. Not really a big thing.”

Steve nods. He watches Bucky, naked and cooking bacon. He looks too the door and then over to their discarded clothes. They shouldn’t be naked when the police come. He hops from the stool and picks up Bucky’s pants. He slips into his own shorts too.

“Shouldn’t be naked when they get here.”

Bucky smiles, nodding. “Yeah.”

Steve’s almost done brewing coffee when a knock on the door comes. They both look to each other before looking at the door. Bucky goes over, opening. The cops are there with two dogs. They snarl at Bucky before sniffing and whimpering.

“You’re mated,” one of the cops says.

“Uh—yeah—just last night.” He opens the door wider to show off Steve. Steve’s by the coffee pot. He waves.

“Oh.” The cops look at each other and then down to their dogs. “So that’s what was up.”

“Do I still have to go?” Bucky asks. He knows he doesn’t, Steve knows that, but Steve guesses it’s Bucky just checking for reassurance.

“No,” the female cop says, “you’re mated. We’ll file some paperwork. Make sure to get in contact with an attorney to get the sentence waived. All procedural.”

Bucky nods. The cops tip their hats to them, offering congratulations. Once the door closes, Bucky rounds and scoops Steve into his arms. He swings him around, kissing his face.

Steve’s momentarily startled by the joyous display, until he’s laughing just as much. They met in the worst place imaginable—among rapists, thieves and murderers—among desperate omegas and equally as desperate alphas. They escaped death together and Steve can’t stop smiling about the magnitude of this moment.

They’re both free. Finally, finally free of that wretched MAD Zone. Except—Steve smiles sadly when Bucky puts him back on the stool—there’s one more step.

Steve watches Bucky continue cooking breakfast. There’s a pep to his step, a tune from his lips, he’s swaying his hips and Steve’s watching his scarring shine under the light spilling into the large windows.

Bucky’s free—but many others aren’t. There are alphas forced into that zone because of misunderstandings, omegas stolen and kidnapped. There are people still advocating for the MAD Zone’s use when Steve and Bucky have seen it firsthand with all its atrocities. Omegas being strung up, sobbing as alphas fight over them. Alphas feeling like they’re not worth anything because of a simple misunderstanding. Steve won’t ever forget get omega tied to the pole.

He looks at his coffee, watching the creamer swirl around. They have work to do. They have _so_ much work to do. They may be free, but others aren’t.

And Steve won’t rest until the MAD Zone is destroyed. No matter the cost.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to kudo! Leave a comment if you'd like <3
> 
> Add me on [tumblr!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/)  
> Happy Holidays to my dear friend, [hopeless--geek](http://hopeless--geek.tumblr.com/), this is a gift for her <3


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